


Never Going Back Again

by Merelle



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Lady Loki, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki's Kids, M/M, Midgard isn't so bad, Mind Control, Odin's A+ Parenting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shapeshifting, Sigyn - Freeform, Telepathic Bond, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, don't worry kids the angst isn't going to last forever, i'm not handling my post-infinity war depression well okay, y'know how Thor became more sarcastic bc of Tony?, yeah it's that except with Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-05-03 11:24:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 146,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merelle/pseuds/Merelle
Summary: It's three in the morning when Tony finds a man claiming to be a Norse God on the beach, half frozen and unconscious. Deciding against what could be considered "common sense", he takes the man home. His name is Loki, and he's weird. But kind of intriguing. And maybe he actually is a god.Loki didn't intend on surviving the fall from the Bifrost, and he certainly didn't intend on landing on Midgard, of all places. But the guy he meets seems...not terrible, and more than willing to help. The fall left Loki more paranoid and weakened than he'd ever been, and somehow, Tony Stark might be able to help fix that.





	1. Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. All rights go to Marvel and although I love them all to death, they (obviously) don't belong to me.

The last thought that passed through Loki’s mind before the cold overtook him was _the stars do look rather beautiful up close._ He watched the horrified face of his adoptive older brother and the saddened but distant expression of his adoptive father - if you could call him that - fade away as the young Aesir fell towards the collapsing remains of the Bifrost, the great void opening like a giant maw beneath him. The stars surrounded him, bright beacons of light in the eternity of space before Loki disappeared into the inky darkness and was seemingly lost to Asgard. The cold was unbearable, colder even than Jotunheim, and the darkness even more so. Just before he slipped away completely and was plunged into the black, the prince caught a glimpse of his pale skin turning blue again, and this time, not changing back. _This is what death must feel like,_ Loki mused, _Perhaps this_ is _death, and I am cursed to float in this endless pool of despair for all of time._

 

Time passed, or at least, Loki suspected it did. Something passed. He kept falling. Slowly. Less falling, more floating. As whatever twisted version of time that existed within this hellscape passed, Loki grew weaker and weaker. The cold ate away at his mind, at his body, until he could no longer think. It was numbing - the little feeling he’d had in his limbs at first was gone, and the former prince of Asgard was little more than a consciousness drifting through the eternal emptiness.

There were times that he thought he could hear an unfamiliar voice whispering his name, or feel bony hands grasping at his cape as if trying to drag him down further.

 

But then, out of the blue, something unexpected happened.

 

The stars came back.

 

One minute Loki was being tormented in the darkness, the next he was free falling from a sky too far away to reach. The wind on his skin as he fell was _real,_ the salty sweetness of the air was _real,_ the feeling in his bones was _real._ He was _alive,_ and the world around him was too. He could feel the way his surcoat whipped around him in the night air, the way his straggly hair blew in the wind, see the stars stretched out above him, infinite and mysterious. They looked...different. New.

 

 _Those aren’t my stars,_ he realized. And then he hit the ground, and everything went black again.

 

***

 

It’s three AM, and Tony Stark is still awake. He’d tried to fall asleep, but after two hours of tossing and turning in sheets that seemed to smother him no matter how he lay, he’d given up and had headed into his lab. Tinkering away at one of the gauntlets of his suit, he allowed himself to be caught up in the Led Zeppelin that blasted from the overhead speakers and the grating of the power tools. He was shaken out of his reverie at exactly three forty-two AM by JARVIS. alerting him of a security breach.

 

_“Sir? There’s been an anomaly on the security cameras. Would you like me to bring it up for you?”_

 

Tony sets down the blowtorch he’d been holding and drags a hand through his already messy hair. “Yeah, sure. Show me.”

The computer on Tony’s workstation beeps and a video file opens, showing the view of the ocean from one of the cameras. Tony squints at it, unsure of what the A.I. had been talking about.

He almost jumps back in shock when a streak of golden light shoot from the sky and crashes on the beach.

“JARVIS, what _is_ that?”

 

_“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. Our scanners don’t reach that far.”_

“Right,” Tony says. “I’ll be right back, then.”

Ignoring the A.I.’s protests, Tony secures his repaired gauntlet onto his forearm and starts off toward the beach.

 

The night air is cold, almost to the point where Tony considers doubling back to grab a jacket, but decides against it, and continues on, repulsor beam at the ready.

Whatever the light was, it had landed on the shoreline, where waves were gently washing over the shapeless heap. Tony slides down a sandbank and cautiously approached the figure. It wasn’t until the inventor was directly over the object did he realize what it was.

“Holy _shit,”_ He breathes, crouching down beside the fallen figure and rolling it onto its back. The man - or whatever it was - was pale. _Scratch that,_ Tony thinks, _he’s positively snowy._ It’s true - the man’s skin is practically white, probably from cold. Tony’s brow furrows as the light from his gauntlet falls upon the man’s face. He’s young, perhaps a few years younger than Tony, but somehow seems so much older. His eyes are tightly shut, and has angular features and dark ebony hair that’s plastered to his head from the shallow water that laps at his thin frame. But perhaps the most startling discovery is the sight of frost - and what looks disturbingly like blue skin - creeping along the features of the unconscious man. The night is cold, but not nearly cold enough for frost to form, let alone for anyone to catch hypothermia. It’s as if the man had been frozen and then thrown onto the beach for Tony to find. “JARVIS, check for signs of life,” Tony requests. _‘Right away, sir,”_ the A.I. replies. A bright beam of bluish light shoots out from Tony’s gauntlet and scans the man’s body.

 _“I’ve detected a heartbeat,”_ JARVIS reports. _“Shall I call an ambulance?”_

Tony looks down at the strange man. He’s clothed in something that looks straight out of a medieval fair - except that it’s real, and this man fell from the sky. “No,” He decides. “But clear my schedule for tomorrow.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

The man gave no signs of waking up as Tony awkwardly hoisted him into his arms, stumbling slightly at the unexpected weight. He slowly made his way back into his house, making a mental note to wipe the security camera footage to prevent anyone - I.E. Happy or Pepper - from asking questions.

 

The stranger stayed fast asleep, even after Tony deposited him in one of the spare bedrooms, on top of sheets that hadn’t been touched by a human in months. The inventor twisted a dial on the wall, and the windows blacked out. A warm light from the table lamp lights up the otherwise dark room. The stranger exhales softly and relaxes into the pillows. Tony breathes a sigh of relief and pulls the blankets up around the man, hoping to reverse the frost setting in on the man’s body.

Knowing there’s nothing else he could do tonight, Tony backs out of the room and shuts the door, making sure to passcode-lock it. “Well, Tony,” He mutters to himself, “Looks like we’ve got another adventure on our hands.”

 

***

 

Tony wakes up the next morning to four missed calls from Pepper, two from Rhodey, and several angry texts from both of them.

 

_Text Message_

_8:45 AM_

_From: Pepperoni_

_Tony, I’m waiting at the entrance. Call me when you’re on your way?_

 

_Text Message_

_8:58 AM_

_From: Pepperoni_

_Tony. You have two minutes. Where are you?!_

 

_9:01 AM_

_Missed call from: Pepper Potts_

 

_Text Message_

_9:04 AM_

_From: Pepperoni_

_Are you kidding me?? This is the second time you’ve been late to a conference this week!_

 

_Text Message_

_9:06 AM_

_From: Rhodey_

_I think Pepper might kill you if you don’t answer her_

 

_Text Message_

_9:10 AM_

_From: Rhodey_

_Oh you’re really in for it now._

 

_Text Message_

_9:13 AM_

_From: Pepperoni_

_Anthony, I swear to GOD._

 

_Text Message_

_9:16 AM_

_From: Pepperoni_

_J.A.R.V.I.S. just sent me a message saying you cancelled everything on your schedule. Are you alright?_

 

_Text Message_

_9:18 AM_

_From: Rhodey_

_Did you die?_

 

The list went on. Tony sat up from his spot on the couch, not actually remembering when he’d gone to sleep there. His back gave a twinge of pain and Tony winced. Stretching, Tony tapped a quick response to Pepper, and went to go make himself coffee.

 

_Text Message_

_1:36 PM_

_Hey Pep, sorry for not answering. got a bunch of shit to do. nothing to worry about, don’t flip out, i just need to focus on that today. send me the documents from this morning & i’ll read them. Thx _

 

Hoping he won’t get stabbed the next time he sees Pepper, Tony tucks his phone into his pocket and goes to open the door of the guest bedroom, taking with him a couple slices of toast and a glass of water. To both his relief and disappointment, his strange new housemate is still fast asleep. He looks healthier now - his sickly pallor is fading, and there’s no sign of any frost. His lips are still tinted blue, as well as the tips of his fingers. Tony sets the plate down on the bedside table and turns to leave, intending on retrieving his portable scanner from his lab, but is stopped by a sudden, quiet murmur. Tony pauses and turns back around. The stranger’s muttering in his sleep, in a language Tony doesn’t recognize. “JARVIS, what language is that?” He asks. His A.I. is quiet for a moment, presumably to listen. _“The closest language I can match it to is Norwegian, sir. He seems to be calling out for his mother.”_

Tony looks at the young man, asleep and distressed under the quilts. “Any I.D.?”

_“None that I can find, sir.”_

The stranger’s murmuring gradually dies off, leaving him as silent as the night Tony had found him. His hands, that had been desperately clutching at the white sheets as if they would ground him, relax and slip down underneath the quilt. His breathing gradually slows to a more natural rhythm, and Tony exhales in relief. “Looks like we’re okay for now, J. Keep monitoring his vitals and let me know if anything changes.”

 _“I will try my best, sir._ ”

“And get on the phone with Pep, will you? I have some explaining to do.”

_“You do indeed, sir.”_

Tony chuckles to himself and leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

 

The stranger stayed asleep for two full days after Tony found him. Tony went in every day to check on him, and scared the hell out of Pepper when she stopped by to deliver a rather hefty stack of paperwork. She had asked why the guest bedroom was locked and when she went to open it, Tony had practically dove across the room to push her away. “Unstable tech,” he’d said in defense, knowing full well that Pepper didn’t believe a word he was saying.

JARVIS kept recording and translating the foreign babbling that Tony’s new houseguest kept uttering in his slumber. Most of the phrases were one or two words, the most common - and saddest - being _I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ repeated over and over again. Then there were the more sinister ones, like _you shouldn’t have lied,_ and _this is all your fault._ The worst (and longest) of the phrases, thankfully was only recorded once. But that didn’t stop it from being the creepiest shit Tony had heard in his life.

Tony had been running another test on the man’s vitals when suddenly the guy had snarled what translated to “Watch your back, because if you don't, you will find yourself with my blade in your spine, and still, it will hurt less than the pain you caused me.”

 

Needless to say, that was enough for Tony to install extra security on the guest bedroom, effectively turning it from a bedroom to a holding cell.

 

***

 

It’s 10 AM on the third day when Tony unlocks the door again and enters. The room is still dark despite the morning sun shining on the other side of the curtains. The man lays curled under the blankets, half obscured by white sheets and gold quilts. For once, he’s silent, and Tony finds himself feeling relieved. That is, until he steps forward and the floor creaks.

The man on the bed jerks upright with a cry of “Forsvinn!” and a long, wickedly sharp dagger whistles through the air, narrowly missing Tony’s head before it buries itself in the wall by the door, quivering slightly. Tony jumps back in alarm, heart pounding. The intense green glare of the stranger seems to be boring right through him. “Hvem er du?” The man hisses, his voice as cold as the frost Tony had found him in.

“JARVIS?” Tony whispers. “Translation, please?”

_“He appears to be asking who you are, sir.”_

The strangers green eyes flash in surprise and there’s suddenly another blade in his hand, seemingly from nowhere. “Woah!” Tony says, stepping forward with his hands outstretched. “It’s okay. That’s just JARVIS. He won’t hurt you.”

 

“JARVIS?” The man parrots.

 

“Yeah, he’s...a robot. Of a sort.”

 

The man narrows his eyes. “Hvem er du,” He repeats.

 

“Oh. Right. My name is Tony Stark. I’m...an inventor. And a superhero. Kind of. It’s more of a hobby, honestly.”

 

The man raises a dark eyebrow and Tony feels like he’s being judged. Then the man speaks again, and Tony is taken aback by the sudden change in the guy’s voice.  
“You are a hero, Tony Stark?”

 _My god,_ Tony thinks, _the guy’s British._

“I’d like to think so,” Tony responds coolly. The man quirks his lips up in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which stay as cold as the water Tony found him in. “There’s no such thing as heroes, Tony Stark. Only men who think themselves above the general populous, and then they are no different than those you would call evil.”

 

Tony purses his lips. “Al...right then. That’s, uh, one way of putting it.” He clears his throat. “So, mister cynical, where are you from, exactly? ‘Cuz you washed up on the beach a couple nights ago and that’s not exactly a common occurrence around here.”  
The man deftly tucks a lock of curly black hair behind his ear with nimble fingers. “If I am honest with you, Tony Stark, I do not know where it is I should claim to be from. Indeed, recent discoveries have shown me that perhaps the place I called home was more of a prison.”

 _Jesus Christ,_ Tony thinks. _This guy is fuckin’ crazy._

“But I must ask _you_ a question, as well. Where is it that I have landed?”

“Uh...Malibu?”

The man squints. “I have never heard of this “Malibu”. What realm is it?”

“What?”

 

The man rolls his eyes. “What planet is this?”

 

Tony snorts. Okay, so maybe this guy isn’t crazy. Maybe he’s just incredibly stoned. “Earth, obviously.”

And _oh,_ the _look_ on the man’s face is somehow both amusing and terrifying. He looks horrified, disgusted, and pissed off all at the same time. Tony takes a couple steps back to avoid getting another dagger whipped at him. “I’m on _Midgard?_ ’ The man growls.

“...Yes?” Tony ventures. He vaguely recalls reading a book on some old mythology and seeing Earth being referred to as “Midgard”.

The man collapses back into the pillows. “Midgard!” He wails. “This must be some sort of cruel joke!”

“I mean, I get you, buddy.”

“I would rather have kept floating through the void until I perished than be stuck on this putrid excuse of a planet!”

“Okay, jeez!” Tony stares at the man. “You good?”

The man glowers at him. “Obviously not, _mortal._ ” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “I am getting out of here.” He throws the quilt off of himself and Tony, now both confused and more than a little disturbed, steps aside. His instinct tells him that trying to stop this man would result in a dagger between the eyes.

The man throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands up - only to almost immediately stumble and fall forward. Tony leaps to catch him and the two collide, the stranger practically throwing himself across Tony. “Easy there, hotshot,” Tony says, lifting the man up and guiding him back to sit on the bed. “JARVIS said you took some pretty heavy damage. I wouldn’t try and escape just yet.”

The man grumbles a complaint but allows the inventor to help him. “Thank you,” He mutters grudgingly.

Tony throws him one of his signature smiles - this one being the “You’re being a prick but then again so am I, so hey, let’s be pals” smile.

The stranger rubs his shoulder and glances around the guest room, as if taking in his surroundings properly for the first time. “This is…not horrible, for a mortal.”

Tony chuckles. “Thanks, I guess? Hey, by the way, what’s your name? ‘Cuz I’m thinking that calling you something like “Spaceman” wouldn’t end well for me.”

The stranger shoots him a glare. He turns his head the opposite direction and mumbles something under his breath.

Tony furrows his eyebrows. “Luke?” He says.

“ _Loki_ ,” the man says, louder. “My name is Loki.”

 _Loki, huh?_ Tony thinks. _Cool name. Bit familiar._ “Is that like...foreign?” He says out loud, prompting a rather dramatic eye roll from the newly-christened Loki. “To you, yes, I suppose it would be.” He responds coolly. “But to me, it is not.”

“Fair point,” Tony says. He starts to walk toward the door. “I’m going to grab you something else to wear. I’m guessing that-” He gestures to the elaborate armour Loki is dressed in. “-Isn’t too comfortable.”

Loki glances down at himself, looking as though he’d just remembered what he was wearing. “I shall deal with it,” He says dismissively, waving a hand. “Now leave me. I must run an analysis upon myself.”

“Sure, whatever that means,” Tony jokes, but leaves anyway.

 

“JARVIS,” Tony says quietly, making sure he’s well out of earshot of Loki’s room, “Can you run a search for “Loki”? Something about the guy...doesn’t feel right. I feel like I should know him from somewhere.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Tony returns to his workshop and attempts to drive away the growing sense of unease by completing the upgrades on his gauntlets. It isn’t long before JARVIS speaks up again, having found results of his search.

 

 _“Sir,”_ He says out of the blue, causing Tony to almost set fire to his computer with the welding torch, _“I believe I have found something of interest.”_

Tony lifts the welding mask. “Let’s have a look, then, shall we?”

The holoscreen in front of the desk flickers open. Tony scans the pages, his eyebrow slowly creeping upwards to his hairline.

 

_Loki Liesmith_

 

_Often called the god of mischief and trickery, Loki Liesmith is the younger brother of the norse thunder god Thor, and the youngest child of the Allfather Odin. He is perceived as a man of magic, and uses illusions to cause deceit and confusion. While there are many different recorded descriptions of the mischievous god, the most common among them is that of a young man with jet-black hair and piercing green eyes. He is recognizable by his gold and green armour, and a massive helm topped with long, curled horns._

 

The article goes on to describe the many weird and sometimes downright horrific stories of the Liesmith and his brother. Tony chuckles to himself. “So this random guy I picked up on the beach is the Norse god of Lies? I dunno J, that seems a little far fetched, even for our line of work.”

_“That’s what I thought too, sir, until I found this debriefing report from two months ago. I had to access Agent Coulson’s hard drive to find it, but it’s worth the read.”_

The article on the Liesmith disappears and is replaced by a three page report detailing a supposed extraterrestrial encounter, in which a man claiming to be Thor, god of thunder, arrived by unknown means in a small town in Mexico, broke into a secure S.H.I.E.L.D. camp, and fought a massive metal man. Before any agents could debrief him, he “flew away”.

“Holy shit,” Tony murmurs. “Is this why Coulson pestered me about whether or not I made a giant suit?”

_“I would assume.”_

There’s a photo attached to the report of the man in question. He’s handsome, in a rugged, lumberjack type way, with long blond hair and blue eyes that almost rival Loki’s in intensity. Tony switches back to the first article and scrolls down to find a tapestry of the Norse gods that’s displayed in some museum. There’s Thor, portrayed with his mighty hammer and stupid winged helmet, dressed in elaborate red and silver armour, and _oh jesus, does he look similar to the photo._ And then, of course, there’s the younger brother, who, even with the horned helm and concerned expression, bears a striking resemblance to the man Tony found on the beach, who is currently throwing daggers at his walls. “Holy _shit,_ ” Tony repeats. “JARVIS, get me eyes on our guest.”

The holoscreen beeps and the security footage of Loki opens. The man is laying on top of the covers with his eyes closed and his hands folded across his stomach. His long hair is spread out across the pillow, and he looks almost peaceful. But then Tony’s eyes travel down the man’s body and to his amazement-slash-disbelief, the armour is gone, replaced with a pair of simple leather pants and a loose-fitting green tunic, tied at the waist with a brown leather belt. Tony gulps. “JARVIS, I’m starting to think that maybe I have to reconsider the possibility of gods existing.”

_“That does sound likely, sir.”_

 

***

 

Tony doesn’t return to the upper levels until much later, out of fear that the god in his house might decide to smite him. Instead, he works on enhancing his suit and upgrading the weapon systems. It’s only when the gauntlets can blast through solid steel does he carefully walk up to the guest bedroom again and slowly knock on the door.

“Come in,” says a smooth voice from inside, and Tony opens the door, his armoured hand behind his back. Loki’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing the window. The lights are off, but the light from the setting sun - Good god, is it _that late_ already? - is washing over his frame, turning his raven hair orange. “Anthony,” He greets, without opening his eyes or turning his head. “You have no need of your weapon. I do not intend to harm you.”

Tony steps cautiously into the room, gauntlet at the ready. “Two things - one, how do you know my full name, and two, how’d you know I’m armed?”

Loki smiles. “There is a tapestry upon the wall documenting your excellence.”

Tony looks up, and yep, there’s a magazine cover of him, full name and all. “Okay, that makes sense. But what about the second question?”

“Well,” Loki says, finally turned to meet Tony’s eyes, “You seem like a man of adequate intelligence, so I assumed you have searched for me by now, and judging by your unease, figured out who I am, meaning you would most likely be scared. And as you are curious, you no doubt wanted to come question me about my origins. But of course, you wouldn’t come without something to defend yourself with, in case I decided to kill you. A rightful assumption, might I add.”

Tony lowers his hand. “Clever. But what if I _didn’t_ bring a weapon, and you were wrong?”

Loki’s eyes glitter with amusement. “Then that would be highly embarrassing for me, and most likely entertaining for you.”

He slides off the bed, this time managing to stand without stumbling, and crosses the room to stand across from Tony. “Now. What do you wish to know?”

Tony looks at him warily. “You’re not going to smite me?”

Loki shrugs. “I know kindness when I see it. And although you are but a mortal, you saved my life, meaning I am...indebted to you. So no, I will not harm you.”

He smiles again, and this time, it reaches his eyes. “You can consider me your ally, Anthony Stark, until such time that I can return-”

His eyes darken and his expression turns sour. Tony takes a step away. “Loki…?”

Loki shakes his head and the dark expression disappears. “Forget it. I just...did not take into account the fact I would no longer be welcome in my home.”

His green eyes grow sad and Tony has to refrain from patting him on the shoulder. “What happened?” He says instead.  
“Do not inquire of such things,” Loki snaps, and then gathers himself. “My apologies. It is just...not something I wish to discuss.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can understand that. But I still want to talk about where you’re from. Like, are you from Earth, or…”

Loki smiles wryly. “My realm is a complex topic, Anthony. But, if we are to be allies, I suppose it would be best for me to explain it.”

“Please do.”

“Shall we take a walk? I would like to escape the confines of this room. The man in your walls does not appear to like me.”

Tony laughs, sensing Loki’s discomfort. “JARVIS? He’s like that. C’mon, I’ll show you where I found you. This way.”

 

***

 

“I come from the realm of Asgard, home of the Aesir. To your race, we are gods, and rightly so, for we live for thousands of years, and our abilities you can only dream of. We do not visit your planet often, as it is primitive, but when we do, we would tell you humans stories of our realm, which in turn became your myths.”

 

“So, about the mythology,” Tony interjects, “Is all of that real, or did us humans just make it up?”

Loki visibly winces. “There are...some stories that are realistic. None of them are one hundred percent true, however, and thank the Norns for that. You mortals tend to twist the words spoken to you.”

“So, that whole story about you and the horse…”

Tony ducks out of the way just in time to prevent getting smacked.

“Sleipnir is an example of one of your twisted stories,” Loki snaps. “He is a shapeshifter who favours the form of a horse. His father is of Aesir blood. And I believe it was Thor’s oaf of a friend Volstagg who started that rumour.” He sniffs. “I was never overly fond of Volstagg.”

Tony frowns. “So this...Sleip...Slep…”

“Sleipnir?”  
“That’s it. He’s actually your son?”

Loki looks out at the horizon fondly. “Yes. My youngest. Though I have not seen him in quite some time; I sent him away, along with my other children to keep them safe.”

Tony stays silent for a moment before responding. “I’m...sorry to hear that.”

Loki waves a hand. “It is alright. They are safe. And I will see them again.”

 

They stop at the water’s edge, where Tony had found Loki. Loki bends down and examines the patch of sand, as if expecting to find some great secret hidden within it. “Peculiar,” He muses, swirling the wet sand with a finger. “This is where you found me?”

“That’s why we’re here, so yeah.”

Loki stands again and tilts his head to the sky. His eyes are narrowed as he scans the clouds. “There must be a reason I fell here, of all places. This is the only settlement in miles, and I could have just as easily fell into the middle of the ocean.”

“Guess it’s fate,” Tony quips.

“It may well be,” Loki murmurs. “It may well be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleipnir - Loki's son mentioned in this chapter and again in later chapters - is pronounced "Sl-eye-p-near".


	2. Iron & Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki & Tony share their knowledge about their respective abilities, and Loki begins to suffer the after affects of his fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a quick warning - I wrote most of this on my phone, so I apologize if the formatting is weird. I did my best to fix it but if there's weird spaces, that's why. Stupid Google Docs.

        When Loki retires back to his room, he can’t fall asleep. It’s early in the morning when he gives up on sleeping entirely, plagued by images of Laufey, and of the dark, unforgiving depths of the void. He hears the sinister whispers of the silence and wakes in a cold sweat, forgetting for a moment that he is safe on Midgard, where no one would think to look for him. Pushing the quilt off of himself, Loki softly creeps out the door, intending to wander around the house and explore.

Anthony, or Tony, as he preferred to be called, was, in Loki’s opinion, perplexing. Which for Loki, was odd, for he prided himself on being able to read people easily. But with Tony...he seemed to hide himself behind a mask of magazine covers and news stories. It was almost impossible for Loki to figure out what was going on in that head of his. Although, Loki was glad that of all the people he could’ve ended up being rescued by, he was found by someone who matched his intellect. This Tony...he wasn’t _nice,_ per say, but he was kind. Loki sensed he had been hurt before - and judging by the strange glowing light in his chest, he’d been hurt physically, too. Loki made a mental note to ask him about that the next time they spoke.

It did confuse him that despite the massive house, filled with spare bedrooms and enough space to house many more people, Tony was the only inhabitant. (Not that Loki was complaining.)

Back on Asgard, Loki would rarely find a space in the castle where no one else was. Even his own rooms were constantly being invaded by servants, usually sent by his mother to clean up messes made by his practices. He supposed that somehow, the fact that the house was so silent was one of the reasons Tony had taken him in, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

 

The house itself wasn’t any less lonely at night. Tony had long since withdrawn to his own quarters, leaving Loki completely alone. Unless he counted Tony’s strange unseen friend, JARVIS, who unnerved Loki greatly.

       He wanders the large halls of the mansion, occasionally stopping to admire a piece of craftsmanship left by the inventor. He descends the staircase into a wide open living space, pausing to gaze out the window at the ocean, endless and beautiful under the light of the moon. It’s a serene moment, just Loki, illuminated by the light of an alien moon. In the distance, by the shore, Loki can see the spot where he crashed to Midgard. There’s a searing pain in the back of Loki’s skull and suddenly he finds himself falling again, the horribly familiar emptiness of the void surrounding him once more. There’s no air in his lungs and he’s choking, the cold biting at his skin like a pack of hungry wolves surrounding their prey. Teasing it before the kill.

A shout is ripped from his throat and the Aesir lurches forward, the darkness disappearing as quickly as it had come. His fingers touch glass and Loki is looking back out across the ocean. The waves caress the shore the same way, the moon still shining brightly in the inky sky. There’s nothing to allude to the pit of despair Loki had just fallen into.

       Loki turns away from the window and swallows the growing sense of unease that started building in his throat. His bare feet hit the floor with no noise as he pads toward another staircase, half tucked behind a rather unnecessary (yet tasteful) waterfall. At the bottom, he’s met with a locked glass door leading to what is obviously Tony’s workshop. Inside he can see glowing screens left on, and half-built machines, the likes of which Loki had never imagined possible. He closes his eyes and disappears, reappearing on the other side of the locked door. He smiles to himself and continues his searching.

       The screens, he discovers, are open to research about him and Thor. The report on his brother - _adoptive_ brother, Loki reminds himself - is dated two Midgardian months ago. Loki’s breath hitches. Was that truly how long he’d been in the void? He supposes it’s not all that surprising, really. An image of the darkness flashes across his mind’s eye and Loki flinches, quickly whisking the open document away. The next thing open on the screen is a strange three dimensional diagram of what resembles a suit of armour, though Loki has never seen any armour on Asgard quite like it. It’s designed to cover the whole body, interlocking with neat joints. Loki reaches out to trace the outline of the armour, starting slightly when the model zooms in. Loki frowns and prods the screen again, and the model moves once more. Growing acquainted with the strange tech, Loki explores the designs, admiring Tony’s work. His host is every bit the genius Loki had first suspected.

He zooms in on the chest piece of the suit, where what he assumes to be some sort of power source is housed. It’s triangular in shape, and, upon closer inspection, in the exact same place as-

“Loki, do me a favour, and step away from that screen.”

       The voice comes from behind him, and Loki smiles. “Tony. You snuck up on me. I’m impressed.” He turns around, and yes, there’s Tony, in his boxers and a baggy t-shirt. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest. “How did you know I was here?” Loki asks, leaning against the desk behind him. Tony takes a step forward. He’s barefoot. “JARVIS alerted me to movement in my workshop,” he answers. “Now it’s my turn. How’d you get in here without triggering and or breaking anything? Not to, y’know, brag or anything, but I happen to know that _nobody_ can bypass my security system. And no offense, Macbeth, but you don’t exactly strike me as a tech genius.”

Loki fixes Tony with a quirked eyebrow and a cocky grin. “Physical barriers can’t stop me. I am a god, after all.”

“So you what? Teleported in here?”

“Precisely.”

Tony stares at Loki for a moment. “You’re not serious. I was kidding.”

       Loki chuckles. “Dear Tony, I think you will find that I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve. And so, I think…” He steps forward and gently pushes Tony’s arms away from his chest. Tony lets him, albeit warily. The blue light of the arc reactor reflects in the green of Loki’s eyes. “...Do you.”

       Tony shifts and Loki draws his hand away. “I can see that you’re curious, Macbeth. It’s just...it’s three in the morning and us mortals still need sleep.” He’s cut off by a yawn. “So I’m gonna boot you out of here, because I don’t let most people in the first place, and certainly not by themselves.” He makes an overly dramatic sweeping motion with his arms towards the door. “If you’re all that interested in my work, I would be more than happy to give you a tour tomorrow, when I’m not half asleep. Come on, let’s go.”

       Knowing Tony could not be persuaded otherwise, Loki raises his hands in surrender and allows Tony to steer him towards the door. Tony follows him up the stairs and back into the common room. “Okay,” Tony yawns, “If you want to stay up the rest of the night, that’s fine by me, just no more snooping around in my stuff. There’s food in the kitchen if you want it. Don’t touch the alcohol.”

Loki clasps his hands neatly in front of himself. “You have my word that I will keep to myself.”

“Good man,” Tony says sleepily, and pats Loki on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, spaceman.”

He gives Loki a two-fingered salute and disappears up the stairs. Loki watches him go, a look of mild amusement passing over his features.

 

***

 

The morning sun is already streaming through Tony’s window when he wakes up.

_“Good morning, sir,”_ JARVIS says. His voice shakes Tony out of the early morning stupor that had settled heavily on his shoulders. “Morning, Jarv,” he responds. Tony throws the covers off and slides out of bed, stretching his arms as he does so. “What’s on the schedule for today?”

_“Nothing, as per usual,”_ JARVIS says, and Tony raises an eyebrow. “You’re really getting the hang of this whole “sarcasm” thing, aren’t you?”

 

_“I learned from the best, sir.”_

 

“Aw, you flatter me.”

 

       Tony throws on a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of jeans scavenged from the corner of his bedroom, and flings open the door. Down the hall, Loki’s door is wide open, and the bedding is untouched, so he must’ve not went to bed after Tony found him the previous night. After a quick sweep of the upper floor, he determines that Loki probably didn’t come upstairs at all, so he goes downstairs.

       He finds Loki curled up on the white couch, reading a massive leather-bound book inlaid with blue gemstones that definitely did _not_ come from Tony’s library. He’s also draped in an extravagant fur quilt, which, Tony realizes as he approaches, is actually an entire pelt of a large animal. Again, definitely not Tony’s. “Good morning, Anthony,” Loki says, not shifting his gaze from the weathered pages of his book. “I trust you had a pleasant rest?”

“Just the usual. What are you reading? Is that like...a spellbook?”

“Yes,” Loki says, completely monotone, and turns the page. Tony narrows his eyes. “Okay. Sure. That’s...cool. You a witch?”

“A mage,” Loki responds, still monotone. Turns the page again. ( _Jesus,_ Tony thinks. _How fast can this guy read?_ )

Tony cocks an eyebrow.. “A mage, huh? You any good?”

Loki finally looks up from his reading and fixes Tony with a sinister-looking grin that matches the fiery glint in his eyes. “Very,” he purrs.

The hair on the back of Tony’s neck stands up as if someone is breathing down his spine. Skin prickling, Tony moves past the mage and sidles into the kitchen. “You want anything to eat?” he calls. “Not that I can make anything, but I can probably order something, if you’re hungry!”

There’s a quiet, breathy laugh from the other room. “I am alright, thank you.” Loki’s voice floats back.

“Suit yourself. But I’ll tell you, you haven’t experienced true Stark hospitality until you eat takeout in your pyjamas.”

There’s that laugh again. It’s softer this time. “Really, Tony, I’m not hungry.”

Tony wanders back to the living room, munching on a slice of cold pizza from a few days prior. “Y’know, you’re pretty polite for an alien.”

Loki scoffs. “And you are not, for an alien.”

“Okay, first of all, ow.”

Loki grins. “I’m joking. You have been most pleasant to be hosted by. And yes, I am polite. I was, after all, raised in a castle.”

Tony plunks himself down on the opposite end of the couch. “Yeah, the tiny amount of research I did on you said that you were the son of the “Allfather”? I’m assuming he’s like the king.”

       Loki performs the most over-the-top eye roll Tony has ever seen - which is saying something. “Odin Allfather is _not_ my father. Not anymore. But yes, I was raised as a prince.” He sniffs. “I was told I was the heir to the throne, but apparently that was all just a facade put on by Odin.”   
Tony leans forward, toward Loki. “Sheesh. Got some pretty major daddy issues, huh?”

Loki glowers at him over the top of his book, which he’s buried his nose in again.   
“Not to be rude,” Tony says quickly. “I totally get it. My old man? God, the stories I could tell about him.”

Loki - shockingly - marks his page with a velvet bookmark pulled from nowhere and shuts the book with a thud. “Do continue,” he drawls.   
“Really?”

“No.” Loki stretches his arms above his head. His tunic rides up, flashing a strip of porcelain-pale skin. “That is a topic I would like to avoid. End of discussion.”

Tony shrinks down into the pillows and takes another bite of pizza, which suddenly doesn’t taste all that good. “Got it.”

They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes until Loki flings the pelt off of himself and stands up. “You promised me last night you would show me your work. Do you plan to uphold that promise?”

Tony dusts off his hands and jumps to his feet. “Absolutely. Let’s go, Macbeth.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

Tony waves a hand dismissively as he passes Loki and makes his way to the stairs. “You’ll understand eventually.”

“That’s not an answer, Tony.”

  
“I am aware.”

       Loki shakes his head and follows Tony down the stairs. He watches as the inventor punches a passcode into a pad by the door, which beeps and Tony pushes it open. “See, that’s how us mortals enter rooms,” he says. Loki huffs. “We have doors on Asgard, Anthony.”

“Really?” Tony turns around, looking utterly baffled. And very obviously sarcastic. “So why don’t you use them?”

“I am offended that you think all Asgardians have the same level of magic as I do.”

“So not all of you can teleport?”

Loki looks peeved. “No. Obviously not.”

Tony winks at him and spins on a heel. “I’m just kidding you, princey. Calm down.”

  
“I am very calm.”

“Sure you are, princey.”

       Loki ignores the jab and instead turns to admire the workshop in the daylight. It’s bigger than he initially thought - there’s several cars parked at the end, by a ramp that he assumes leads above ground. The many different work tables are littered with various papers and used coffee mugs, some still half-full with week old coffee. Different holoscreens flicker on, showing images of planes and people, or scrolls of text. All around, the workshop is a balanced mix of organized genius and utter disaster. 

He turns back to find Tony typing away at the holoscreen Loki had used the night before. “You wanted to know my tricks, right?”

“I do,” Loki confirms, moving to fold his arms on the desk and peer at the holoscreen. Tony taps his chest, where the glowing blue triangle lays. “This thing right here? It’s keeping me alive.”

Loki tilts his head. “Are you ill?”

“In a way. See, I had this nasty incident a couple years ago. Nearly died. Got shrapnel in my chest and, well, doctors couldn’t get it all out. So, I built this. It’s an electromagnet. Keeps the shrapnel from piercing my heart.”

Loki straightens up and raises a hand. “May I?”

Tony nods. “Go for it.”

Loki gently pulls down the collar of Tony’s shirt and runs a finger along the outside edge of the reactor. “It’s highly impressive. You are quite skilled, Tony Stark.”

There’s a glint in Tony’s eyes that is off putting to even Loki. “Wanna see something even better?”

“Obviously.”

Tony hits a button and Loki watches in awe as the back wall slides open, revealing different variations of the armour Loki had seen blueprints for. “Behold,” Tony says in a mock announcer’s voice. He spreads his arms wide. “My iron army.”

Loki smiles a bit at Tony’s bad impression and approaches the armour. “What all can they do?”

Tony moves to join him. “Anything I want them to,” he says simply. “I keep improving them. Redesigning them. Making them stronger. Sleeker.”

Loki steps forward to admire the middle suit. The one with the chest piece that matches Tony’s arc reactor. It’s red and gold, and the metal is polished so it shines in the bright light. “They’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Tony makes a pleased noise. “I know.”

He presses another button and the middle suit slides out of its case on a track and stops on a circular platform. Tony strides up to it. “This-” he gestures to the suit with a hand, “-is the newest completed model. I’m working on the weapons systems at the moment. Had a bit of a problem with power depletion that ended with the repulsors backfiring.”

“I may be able to help with that,” Loki offers, pacing around the suit and running his fingers up the arms. The metal is cool to the touch. “I know a lot about power.”

“You would do that?”

Loki shrugs. “You saved my life. Knowledge is a small price to pay in return.”

“That’s fair.”

Tony pushes the button again and the suit retreats back into its display case. “Your turn,” he says. Loki crosses his arms. “Pardon?”

“I showed you my party trick, so it’s only fair if you show me one of yours.”

Loki crosses his arms. “You are very inquisitive.”

“As are you.”

“That is true.” Loki walks back to the center of the room. “Very well. I will show you what I can do. Or at least, some of it.”

Tony pulls up a stool and sits down, watching Loki. The god takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Before Tony can fully register what’s happening, Loki’s form wavers and suddenly Tony is staring at a perfect copy of himself. “Holy shit!” Tony barks, nearly falling backwards off the stool. “How the hell-?!”

“Are you impressed?” Loki asks. The cheeky grin he wears shows that he already know the answer.

“Very,” Tony breathes. “My hair is a rat’s nest, though. Kinda hurt you didn’t tell me.”

“Is that your only comment?” Loki says, voice a mixture of amused and annoyed.

“Apart from “Holy fucking shit, that’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen?” Yeah, basically.”

       Loki laughs - not the quiet chuckle from earlier, but a full, clear laugh that makes Tony smile. He shifts back into his own form again in a quick, fluid flash of light. His usually perfectly groomed hair is frizzy. Tony’s about to make a joke about it when Loki stumbles and lurches sideways. His legs give out from under him and Tony leaps forward to catch the god. Loki leans heavily against Tony and groans. “I do not feel all that well,” he mumbles. “It would appear that I am not up to my full strength.”

       “No kidding,” Tony grunts, struggling to keep hold of the limp god in his arms. “You look pasty as hell.” He helps Loki sit down on the stool Tony had grabbed. Loki leans against the table. “You alright?” Tony asks. Loki nods. “Yes, I will be fine. It has been a long time since I’ve shifted my form. Usually it doesn’t affect me at all, but apparently…” He trails off with a sigh. Tony goes to clap him on the shoulder but decides that doing so might knock the queasy god over, so he settles for a friendly pat. “Just so you know, though, that was absolutely amazing. You’ve gotta explain how you can do that to me some time.” Loki smiles weakly. “I am pleased you find my seidr interesting. Back on my home planet, l was often the subject of many a disapproving glare.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

Tony scoffs. “Why the hell would they scorn you?”

Loki shrugs. “I assume because they expected me to be more like my brother. Muscular. A perfect warrior. More interested in how to spill blood than how to cast spells. He was the golden child, the idol of Asgard. Even as a child. But then I came along, and I wasn’t the same. I liked books, not swords. Spells instead of spears. I was...a let down.”

There’s a shadow that’s fallen across Loki’s face as he talks of his older brother. His voice has turned sour, yet his eyes look sorrowful. Tony recognizes it as a look of conflict - he loves his brother, but at the same time hates him. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re the most badass person I’ve ever met, and I haven’t even known you for a week.”

Loki’s mouth twitches up in a half smile. “Thank you, Tony.”

“I mean it.”

***

       Loki doesn’t regain his strength. He remains tired and pale, to the point where Tony insists on taking him back upstairs so he can lie down. Loki doesn’t complain. He props himself up with the pillows on his bed and tries not to focus on the throbbing headache that’s threatening to split his skull. Tony perches on the end of the bed, brow furrowed with concern. Fortunately, from what Tony can gather, Loki’s less sickly and more aggravated. He keeps drumming his fingers on his chest like he’s bored. “Do you want me to go?” Tony asks, breaking the silence. Loki shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I don’t have anything else to do except talk to you.”

“I don’t know whether I should be offended by that or not.”

Loki gives a half-assed shrug and doesn’t respond. Tony clears his throat. “So how do you do that? The shapeshifting thing? I get that it’s magic, but there’s gotta be _some_ sort of science involved, right?”

Loki hums. “I suppose in a way, yes, there is. I cannot explain how it happens, for it is natural to me. Like bending my arm, or breathing. I simply think of the form I wish to take, and then I change.”

Tony scoots closer. “When did you learn to do it? How old were you?”

The god chuckles. “I was still a babe. Barely nine years old. That’s around eleven months, to you,” he says quickly, before Tony can comment. “I turned into a snake while sleeping in my cradle; it gave my poor mother a heart attack, for she thought I had been eaten.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, can’t imagine that’d be fun to come back to. Do babies regularly get eaten by snakes on Asgard?”

“Obviously not, but Thor had a fondness for snakes, to the point where he would pick up wild ones and bring them into the castle.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Indeed. Although I did play many a good prank on him by transforming myself into a snake.” He grins gleefully. “Like when we were eighty, and he picked me up. I stabbed him. The look on his face was one I will treasure until the end of my days.”

If Tony had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out all over the carpet. “You _stabbed_ him?”

“Oh, yes. All the time,” Loki says cheerfully. Tony stares at him in abject horror. “Call me crazy, but that doesn’t sound like something you should be doing.”

Loki throws him a _you don’t say_ sort of glance. “Relax, Anthony. We are gods. A knife to the abdomen is a paper cut to us.”

“Uh huh. And in our years, how old would eighty be?”

“Eight years old.”

Tony throws his hands up. “Good god, Loki!”

“I don’t understand why you’re praising me. Were you not just disappointed by my actions?”

Tony frowns. “What? No, that’s not what-  Oh, forget it. My point is, maybe don’t stab people?”

He gets an eye roll in response. “Thank you, Anthony,” Loki says drily. “Had you not said anything, I would have surely stabbed you right here and now.”

“No need to be snarky,” Tony retorts. Loki shakes his head and sighs. “You are a piece of work, Anthony.”

“Thank you.”

A glare, with a faint smile. Tony returns it. “So, hey, what else can you tell me about your- what’d you call it? Sadder?”

“Seidr,” Loki corrects. “And if you would like to listen, I would be happy to share some of my knowledge with you.”

“Um, obviously.”

The god snaps his fingers, intending on conjuring up a projection to show Tony. Instead, all he gets is a shoot of pain through his already throbbing skull and a pathetic flash of green fire that fizzles out at his fingertips. “Faen,” he says calmly, even though his inner monologue is swearing in every language known to man. Tony holds back a laugh. “I’m guessing that’s _not_ what you intended to do?”

Loki massages his temple with the tips of his fingers. “No. Not at all.”

Tony chortles. “Nice one. Hey, what language do you keep speaking? Jarv says it’s something like Norwegian, but even he can’t place it.”

Loki flicks a stray strand of hair over his shoulder. “It is my mother tongue. A very old form of Scandinavian speak, lost long ago to mortals. The language of the gods. Although we prefer not to use it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s the worst,” Loki says simply. “And we are the only people who understand it. So, it is not the best option for a prince to speak, as I used to go on many a...diplomatic mission.”

“And by that you mean…?”

“Thor would drag me along on pointless escapades to the other realms in the hopes of provoking a fight of some kind.”

Tony whistles. “Man, this guy sounds like a real piece of work. No offense.”

“None taken,” Loki says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Thor is an idiot. It is truly a miracle he made it to adulthood. Anyways,” he continues, clearly eager to change the subject from his brother, “Would you happen to have a journal, and perhaps a quill? I would summon my own, but…” He flicks both of his hands uselessly and frowns.

“I’ve got a notebook and a pen in my bedroom, if that’d work?”

“It will work nicely.”

Tony stands up. “Be right back, then.”

He leaves the room, and Loki flops back against the pillows. His head still hurts and the usually gentle tingling sensation of his seidr has transitioned into an almost painful burning feeling under his skin. He claps his hands over his face and groans. _Stupid seidr,_ he thinks. _Stupid me. How am I supposed to function on this forsaken planet with magic that brings me pain to use?_

Tony interrupts his bout of self-loathing by reappearing with a small, square blue notepad and a shiny black pen in his hand. “This is my late-night idea journal,” he explains as he sits back down on the bed. “See, sometimes, I get these really great ideas while I’m sleeping, so I have to write them down.” He frowns. “Although, there are times where they don’t make _any_ fucking sense.”

He passes the journal to Loki. It’s battered and has a bunch of looseleaf paper messily sticking out of the pages. Loki flicks through it, searching for an open page, and catches glimpses of the ideas from inside Tony’s head.

 

_A mug that has a memory stick in the handle. For convenience purposes???_

 

_A computer that doesn’t break when you spill coffee on it. Nice going, dumbass._

 

_Upgrade to MK.33 suit - add a system that converts energy from movement into power for the suit._

 

_Outlet in shower to charge phone with._

 

       Loki finally finds a page that is relatively untouched by Tony’s messy handwriting, save for a small doodle of the iron man helmet in the upper left corner. “Alright. So, you wish to learn about my seidr. Let us start with the basics.” He sketches a quick yet neat human figure. “Many pupils of magic learn how to manipulate the preexisting energy found all around us.” He draws a small sketch of a tree and a bird, and then adds lines emanating from them, mimicking an aura. “While this is a formidable and acceptable way to become a mage, it is not the case for me.” He returns to his human drawing and adds a circle where the heart would be. “My heart and mind act as a core for my powers. Instead of drawing energy from my surroundings, I draw it from the reserve within myself. It is not much different from those born without magic, for the energy is the same. The only true difference is that I can also draw power from the world around me and use it to my advantage, such as replenishing myself should my reserve run low.” Loki gives his drawing little swirls of fire around its hands. “My two cores have uses unique to them. My heart controls my moral abilities, like my healing spells. It also distributes the magic through my bloodstream so I can channel it wherever I need it. Like when I summon knives or other objects. My mind core controls the majority of my power. It is with this core that I cast my illusions, send messages telepathically, and shapeshift. Though my shapeshifting ties in with my heart as well, for it needs the magic circulated within my veins in order to morph my body.”

       Tony listens, enraptured. He nods along, soaking up every detail. “So how do you create the illusions?” He asks. Loki seems to consider this for a moment before answering. “It is an odd power,” he admits. “Taught to me by my mother. Within my mind, I create the illusion and then expel the energy. It is quick, practically seamless, as I have practiced for centuries.”

“So it’s kind of like my repulsor beams, then?”

Loki looks confused, so Tony clarifies. “When I trigger them, they fire a blast of energy.”

The god tilts his head. “That seems like a fair analogy, yes. Or at the very least, a close approximation.”

        Loki continues on to explain how to learn magic, and regails Tony of stories of ancient mages from the past, plus a couple experiences of his own. Tony speaks only when Loki pauses, either to ask a question or make a remark. By the end, Loki’s covered four pages worth of notes and doodles on his abilities, which Tony makes a mental note to study in depth at some point. The drawings are all surprisingly detailed, for quick sketches.

       He wonders, after he’s left to fetch Loki a glass of water and an extra blanket, why Loki is trusting him this much. He can’t imagine that he’s this kind to everybody. Tony can see in the way he holds himself, in his jittery movements and shaking hands that something happened to him. Something that scarred him, and probably had something to do with his arrival on Earth. He wants to ask about it but can’t help feeling that he may end up bleeding out on his porch. Loki is an enigma, he decides. A puzzle that Tony will hopefully solve one day. But for now, his resident jigsaw wants water.

 

       Loki has discovered that he hates being alone. That revelation comes as a bit of a shock to him, as he spent most of his life secluded from others. People were distracting. They were loud, and most of the time obnoxious. But after the painful isolation of the void, Loki can’t _stand_ being alone. It seems like every single sound, whether it be the ticking of a clock or the shifting of his body, is amplified. The emptiness is unbearable, to the point where Loki considers dashing out of the room to find Tony. _He’ll be back,_ he assures himself.

He hates that the other half of his brain tells him that Tony won’t be back. That side has gotten much more aggressive since he crash landed on Midgard. Which means that when he’s alone, it gets even louder.

_It’s funny,_ he thinks, _that I am wishing for the return of a mortal I have only known for a few days._

       Loki knows that he’s changed since his landing. He changed when he let go, and kept changing. A part of him was lost in the void. He knows this too. He supposes that it’s probably this that is keeping him here, with Tony, instead of snarling unkind words at him and storming away to make his own path on Midgard. He certainly would have done just that prior to his fall. But now, the thought of being on his own again makes him sick. And deep in his heart, he knows that he’s going to feel like that for a long time. He also knows that Tony is going to be part of his life for the foreseeable future, a thought that had not occurred to him until this moment.

 

Tony comes back balancing a pitcher of water, a glass, and a light purple throw blanket that’s slung over his shoulder. He sets the water down on the wooden bedside table and unfolds the blanket. “How you feeling? Any better?”

Loki shakes his head. “Not in the ten minutes you’ve been gone.”

“Just checking.”

Loki thanks him for the blanket and drapes it around his shoulders. “Tony, may I ask you a strange question?”

Tony crosses his arms. “Provided it’s not sex related, sure. We’ll save those for later.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink and a cheeky smile.

Loki squints at him. “Are you being flirtatious with me, Anthony?”

The smile drops off Tony’s face. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Loki chuckles. “You would not be the first.”

Tony clears his throat. “I’m not surprised. What was your question?”

“Why are you harbouring me?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Really?”  
“Yes.”

“Oh. Uh,” Tony sits down at the foot of the bed. “Because I like you. I find you fascinating. And you needed help. So I helped you.”

A sad smile dances across across Loki’s lips. “And when I am recovered, what then?”

“Like, what’ll I do?”

Loki nods. Tony bites his lip, thinking. “I’d keep the door open for you. You could leave, if you wanted to, but I wouldn’t force you to. You could stay here, at least until we sort something else out.”

Loki picks at the hem of the purple blanket. “You don't have to offer such things to me,” he murmurs.

“It’s no problem. Really. Besides, I want to. Now can I ask you a question?”

Loki dips his head. “You may.”

Tony shifts so he’s facing Loki. “Why do you trust me? I mean, you don’t really know me.”

       Loki shrugs. “Perhaps it is because I look at you and I see myself. We have both felt loss, felt pain. We have both been misunderstood. Perhaps it is because I know you will tell no one about me, because you already keep so many secrets. Or perhaps it is simply because I have nobody else left to trust.”  
Tony blinks. “Is it just one of those or all of the above?”

“Yes,” Loki replies sweetly. Tony chuckles. “Neat. Well, that’s good to know.”

They both grin. Loki’s smile is a little shy, and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It makes Tony wonder what Loki was like before his fall. If he was every bit as snarky and mischievous as his stories made him out to be, or if he was the same as the man lying before him - polite, well-spoken, full of mystery. (And pent-up anger that he kept in surprisingly well.)

There was a lot Tony wants to know about Loki. And luckily, Loki seems to trust him. (Although Tony isn’t sure whether or not to trust that fact, seeing as this was the god of lies.) He knows that it’ll take time to get Loki to open up about everything, but for the first time in quite a long time, he’s willing to wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know I've gotta put the snake story in here somewhere. That scene is legendary. Ragnarok is legendary.  
> Also, I wanted to try and make a parallel between Loki explaining his magic to Tony and Thor explaining Yggdrasil and Asgard to Jane in the first movie, but I dunno if it came out all that well. At least the intention is there though.


	3. RSVP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper arrives and delivers an invitation to Tony, which he is reluctant to accept. Loki tries to get his magic working again after a week of being unable to use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good god this chapter's been a blast to write. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I say that sarcastically. It was a pain in the arse because I kept getting writer's block.

It takes exactly one hundred and sixty-eight hours for Tony’s original plan of keeping Loki a secret to go down the drain. 

 

          Pepper arrives at eleven o’clock AM in a white Jaguar that matches her pantsuit. Her red hair is tied back in a neat bun, and she’d look professional, if it weren’t for the bag of fast food she’d brought for her friend/ex-boss. Her shoes click on the paved stone as she makes her way up to the door. She’s almost surprised when the door opens for her. She’d half-expected Tony to have put JARVIS on what he called “Fuck Off” mode, which was a setting that locked all the doors and was basically just a middle finger to anyone trying to contact him. But, the door swings open, like it always does, and Pepper is greeted with a polite  _ “Hello, Miss Potts _ ,” from JARVIS. 

“Good morning, JARVIS,” she responds as she kicks off her shoes. “Would you happen to know where Tony is?”

_ “He has not left his room yet, Miss Potts.” _

Of course. 

Pepper walks into the living room and sets the bag of hamburgers on the glass side table. The house is silent, except for the sound of the shower upstairs.  _ Well, at least he’s awake,  _ Pepper thinks, taking a seat on the couch. There’s a bizarre fur throw blanket draped over the back. Definitely new, because she’s never seen it before. 

The shower turns off five minutes later and Pepper is preparing to go up to greet Tony when an unfamiliar voice shouts “Your bathing quarters are annoyingly complex, Anthony!”, and a door is flung open. There’s footsteps and a stranger rounds the corner. Pepper closes her eyes in exasperation.  _ Goddamnit, Tony. _

The stranger is tall and pale, wrapped in a fluffy white towel that’s tied embarrassingly low around his hips. He’s dragging a comb through long, wet, curly black hair as he descends the staircase. He freezes as he catches sight of Pepper and his eyes go wide. He ceases combing his hair and Pepper can see his body tense in surprise. “Tony?” he calls, eyes not leaving Pepper. “There is a woman in your living room!”

Scuffling. Swearing. Another door flying open. 

“Hello,” Pepper says. 

“Hi,” says the stranger, shifting awkwardly. 

Tony saves her from an incredibly embarrassing conversation by almost tripping down the stairs. “Ah, Miss Potts!” he exclaims, righting himself and doing a pretty good job of pretending he didn’t almost break his neck. “You are here. I...did not know you were going to be here. JARVIS, why didn’t you tell me Pepper was here?”

 

_ “You were asleep, sir.”  _

 

“I called you last night,” Pepper says. “But I’m guessing you were…busy.” Her eyes flick back to the stranger, who is looking severely uncomfortable. Tony takes in the stranger’s appearance and his eyes widen as well. “Oh. Oh, Jesus, Pep, no. This is Loki. Loki, this is Pepper Potts. She’s my...ex-assistant? CEO?”

“Associate will do nicely,” Pepper states. 

“Associate,” Tony repeats. “Pepper, this is Loki. I did  _ not _ sleep with him-”

“He didn’t,” Loki confirms. 

“-He’s a friend of mine who needed a place to stay,” Tony finishes. Pepper quirks an eyebrow and says nothing, despite knowing he’s telling the truth. She’s good at telling when he’s making something up. And while Loki is one hundred percent the type of guy Tony would bring home, in this case, it’s believable he’s just a guy who Tony wanted to help out. “I am going to...go...get dressed,” Loki says in a silky British accent. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Tony agrees, moving to make room for Loki to get past him. Loki hurries back up the stairs. Tony clears his throat. “Sorry,” he says. Pepper shakes her head. “I’ve seen worse. I brought burgers for you,” she says, changing the subject smoother than Tony could drop a pick up line.

“God bless you.” Tony pushes past her, making grabby hands at the greasy bag sitting on the table. 

“I would have brought one for your friend, but I didn’t know you would have company.”

Tony flicks a hand nonchalantly. “He doesn’t eat, anyways.”

“Pardon?”

“Meat,” Tony says quickly. “He doesn’t eat meat. He’s, uh. He’s vegetarian.”

“Oh.” Pepper sits back down on the couch. “I see.”   
Tony joins her, happily unwrapping his cheeseburger. “So, what’s up? Not that I don’t appreciate the food, but...usually there’s a price attached.”

“Oh, right!” Pepper smacks her forehead. “I almost forgot.” She reaches into her (in Tony’s opinion) ridiculously oversized red purse and pulls out a small, pristine envelope sealed with a golden sticker. She hands it to Tony. The front is emblazoned with gold lettering, addressing it to one Anthony Stark, from “Mr. and Mrs. Gable”. 

Tony heaves a sigh. “Oh, joy.” He sets his burger down and wipes his hands on his pants - much to Pepper’s dismay - before opening the envelope. Inside is a cream-coloured rectangle of cardstock with more gold leaf on it. Tony rolls his eyes. Written on it, in  _ even more gold _ , is:

 

_ Mr. Anthony Stark is officially invited to attend _

_ The Gable family’s charity ball in support of _

_ The One Step at a Time Foundation. _

 

          Below that are four boxes. The first two are the usual “Yes, I can attend” and “Regretfully, I must decline”. The other two say “I will be bringing a plus one”, and the other says “I will not be bringing a plus one”. Below the first box is a blank line are the world’s tiniest instructions telling Tony to write down the name of his plus one. He tucks it back into the envelope and places it gingerly on the table next to his burger. Pepper wrinkles her nose. “I can’t get out of this, can I?” He asks sullenly. “No, you can’t,” Pepper chides. “And don’t bother asking me to be your plus one, because I have my own invitation.” 

“I hate charity balls,” Tony complains. “Everyone there is either old, or boring, or old and boring. Or, there’s the chatty group of twenty year olds who are only there because their daddy is rich and they think they’re hot shit. Last year, there wasn’t even any decent food. It was like, crab. And that was it.” Pepper gives him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll be fine, Tony. It’s in three weeks; all you have to do is show up, play nice, look pretty, and then go home. Plus, Rhodey and I will both be there, and we’re not  _ as  _ old and boring.”

Tony sighs. “Fine. But I reserve the right to leave whenever the hell I want.”

“I won’t stop you. Just...stay as long as you can, okay? It would be in bad taste to leave before everybody has the chance to say hi.”

 

Tony’s response is cut off by Loki quietly floating over to them from the staircase, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the pink shirt and black fleece pants he’d lent Loki.  _ They look good on him,  _ says on half of Tony’s brain.  _ Shut the hell up,  _ says the other. “Hello again, Miss Potts,” he greets, and extends a hand. “I must apologize for our rather unfortunate meeting; I promise, I am usually much more becoming.”

Pepper shakes his hand politely. “No worries, Mr…?” she trails off, looking expectant. Loki’s obviously struggling, so Tony swoops in to help. “Lysmythe,” he blurts out. 

“Mr. Lysmythe,” Pepper continues. Loki sends a look of  _ thank you _ to Tony. “No worries at all.” She draws her hand back and Loki his. “Tony has spoke very highly of you,” he tells her. Tony narrows his eyes. Is he flirting with her? Because that’s what it sounds like to Tony. 

“Has he now?” Pepper sees Tony give her a cheerful thumbs up. “Well, I’m glad. I do, after all, save his ass more times than he saves the city.”

Tony doesn’t protest.

He does, however, tune out the rest of Pepper’s conversation with Loki. Blah, blah, Tony is irresponsible, Pepper’s awesome, more of Loki’s impossibly courteous small talk, because yep, he’s  _ definitely  _ flirting with Pepper - great - and then they’re both laughing and Tony suddenly feels very left out. After an eternity of Tony’s ex-girlfriend/current friend and his...whatever the hell Loki was, Pepper stands up to leave. “Well, apologies for the short visit, but Tony, I should probably get going. I have a lunch date with three possible clients.” She rolls her eyes. “Wish me luck.”

“Oh, have a blast with that,” Tony teases. Pepper sighs. “I’m going to try to refrain from stabbing either myself or them with a fork.” Tony chortles and Pepper turns to Loki. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lysmythe.”

“Likewise, Miss Potts.” Loki takes Pepper’s hand in his own and presses a brief kiss against the back of it. Pepper’s face turns almost as red as her hair. Tony’s jaw drops to the floor. Loki looks incredibly smug. Pepper shoulders her bag and says goodbye once more before hurrying out the door. 

Once it’s closed, Loki turns to Tony, smiling. “She seems nice,” he supplies. Tony nods. “Yeah, Pep is the best. Gotten me out of plenty of tight spots. We, uh, dated for a little while, y’know.”

Loki looks surprised. “Really, now? When?”

“Last year, for a few months. Can’t say I blame her for breaking it off, though.”   
Loki sits down on the couch next to Tony. “Why is that?”

Tony shrugs. “Ah, it just got too complicated. She was always scared I’d die while fighting someone, and I guess she realized that no matter how much I loved her, I wouldn’t give up Iron Man for her.”

Loki nods in understanding. “So there are no hard feelings?”

“Nah. She’s my best friend - well, her and Rhodey. He’s great.”

Loki “hmms” in response and appears to be lost in thought. Tony groans inwardly.  _ Please don’t let Loki develop a crush on Pepper,  _ he pleads to whatever higher power is out there. 

Tony holds up the cheeseburger bag. “Burger?” he offers, changing the subject. “What?” Loki responds, confused.   
“It’s food,” Tony tells him. “And it’s good. Just try it.” 

Loki eyes him warily as he takes the other cheeseburger and cautiously unwraps it. He takes a bite and almost immediately his eyes brighten. “This is...not bad,” he admits, around a mouthful of burger. “For Midgardian food.”

Tony winks. “See? Us mortals know how to do things down here.”

Loki rolls his eyes and gives Tony a playful push.

***

 

          After Tony disappears back into his workshop, Loki curls up on the couch with his book again, poring over the worn pages and running gentle fingers over ancient ink. The book used to belong to Frigga, who in turn had gotten it from her own mother. The pages are decorated with spells created by generations of mages, and Loki has mastered all of them. Well. He  _ used  _ to be able to to use them, until he fell off a bridge and couldn’t do anything without passing out. (He’d tried again last night and must’ve blacked out from exhaustion, because when he woke it was morning and there were scorch marks on his fingertips.) 

          There are some spells written in the tome by Loki himself - some are recent, done only months prior, and some are hundreds of years old, scrawled in his younger self’s messy handwriting. He can remember writing those - he sat at his massive oak desk on a chair that was too tall to let his feet touch the ground, and he scratched the runes onto the rough pages with a raven’s feather quill given to him by Odin on his tenth birthday. It was infused with magic, and the runes would glow as they were written. Loki wishes he had that quill now - it’s probably still sitting on that old oak desk, waiting to be used once more. 

 

Loki traces a spell written by his adoptive mother. She had created it when he was a baby, to soothe him while he slept. It was also one of the first spells Frigga taught him, when he had professed an interest in the art of seidr. 

He misses the feeling of having that sort of power. It’s been four days since the mishap in Tony’s workshop, and he hasn’t been able to summon even a simple quill to his aid. Tapping a finger against the book’s spine in contemplation, Loki slams it shut, releasing a pouf of dust into the air. He sets it down on Tony’s kitchen table and wanders to the back door. 

It’s hot out when he opens it, and there’s a steep cobbled path down to the beach. Loki barely give it a second glance as he pads down it, ignoring the burning rock under his feet. There’s a few small sprouts of grass poking up through the cracks in the grey cobble.

 

          The beach is much less sinister during the day. It’s strange to think that just a couple nights ago, the view of the beach caused Loki to have vivid flashbacks to his time in between realms. Now, the sun’s rays on the water are blinding to look at, and the gulls that fly up in the blue sky are warbling loudly, calling out to one another in a language nobody except them understands. Loki stands, barefoot, in the soft white sand, breathing in the warm air. A light breeze tousles his curly hair. The landscape is new to him, because on Asgard, there were no birds brave enough to fly over the wide expanse of water that surrounded the kingdom. The air here is saltier, the trees smaller and less dense. From what he’s seen, the buildings are not built in the neat, asymmetrical patterns he’s used to, but rather in a messy jigsaw of new and old buildings, tall and short, bright and dull. Even Loki himself is different. The Loki who lived on Asgard was wiser, calmer, more collected. The Loki who stands on a Midgardian beach has too many questions that will forever remain unanswered, and there’s a nagging feeling of panic that is constantly tugging at the back of Loki’s head, as if any second a dam is going to break and Loki will be swept away again. There’s a sudden pang of sadness that stabs through Loki’s heart, and he angrily pushes the thoughts of his old home away and tries to focus on the task at hand.

Loki lets his eyes slide shut. He takes several deep breaths, clearing his mind before slowly opening his hands, palms facing the sky. Slowly, as if it was waking from a deep slumber, he feels the familiar tingling of magic rush to his fingertips.  _ Off to a good start,  _ he thinks.

The magic races through his veins, electrifying Loki’s body. He hears himself bark out a laugh, feels his hair start to stand up. 

 

Which is when it all goes to shit. 

 

          The magic burns hot - too hot, Loki realizes too late, and his eyes snap open to see tongues of green fire licking at his arms. Out of control tongues of fire. Loki screeches as the magic spirals completely out of any sort of manageable power and with a burning flash of light and a earsplitting  _ crack _ , Loki is sprawled across the beach, surrounded by steaming patches of fresh glass. He spits sand out of his mouth and rolls onto his back. His ears are ringing from the blast and his head is throbbing. Loki mutters a lengthy string of swears that would’ve made his mother faint if she’d heard him before clambering back to his feet and trying again. No luck at all, this time. Not even a spark. Loki lets out a frustrated growl.  _ Why is this so difficult?  _ He thinks after ten more failed attempts and two more instances of burned sand. The last time he had had this much trouble summoning a simple flame, he was ten years old and had spent six hours rereading his mother’s neat handwriting documenting how to summon the flame. And even back then, he hadn’t blown anything up. Not in that particular instance, at least. Loki didn’t even know it was possible to blow things up with his fire. Thor’s lightning, sure, that did damage. Loki’s fire? It wouldn’t even light anything unless Loki wished it to. 

          Loki huffs in annoyance and kicks at the sand. His foot hits something hard and he frowns and bends down. He wipes away the sand to reveal a spiraled opalescent shell. There’s a few small cracks in the otherwise flawless surface. Loki smiles to himself and shakes the remaining sand away, admiring the way the light reflects off the surfaces, turning the pale cremé colour to rainbow. He slips the shell into the pocket of his pants. He steps forwards, digging his feet into the sand and unearthing more shells of varying shapes and sizes. Loki rolls up the cuffs of his pants and wades into the water, letting the cold ocean lap at his bare skin. The feeling brings a childish grin to Loki’s face. He hasn’t been to Midgard’s ocean in over five hundred years. He’d forgotten how much he’d loved it, once upon a time.

Loki stoops down and lifts another shell from the water. This one is shiny, scrubbed clean of sand and muck by the ever-moving waves. It’s spoon-shaped, and even brighter than the others, a mottled pattern of blues and greens that shimmer and shift. He dries it on his shirt and lets it join the other shells in his pocket. 

          He spends the next hour stirring up the sand on the ocean floor with his feet, plucking shells and smooth stones from their resting places. His pockets gradually fill up with the assorted treasures, making Loki feel like a little kid again, back when Frigga would take him and Thor down to the river and they’d play on the banks. He remembers those days well - Thor would always insist on play fighting in the water, but he lost more often than not due to his low tolerance of the cold. Loki would crow with victory after “defeating” his older brother, to which Thor would usually respond by pushing Loki into the creek. Frigga would always rush in to save the day, and then reprimand Thor for being reckless. 

Looking back at it now, Loki sees those moments in a different light. He knows that the reason he always won those play fights was because he couldn’t feel cold the same way Thor or Frigga did. 

Loki dismisses the intrusive thought.  _ Let me keep  _ some  _ good memories,  _ he pleads with himself. _ Not all  of it was bad.  _

There’s a sudden warm feeling in his hands and Loki raises them up to see flickers of fire dancing merrily in the afternoon wind. A smile splits Loki’s face and he wills the flames to get larger. They do. They coil around Loki’s forearms like the gauntlets of his armour. The magic burns, enough that it should be painful, but to Loki, the feeling is pleasurable. He flicks his hands and the flames disappear entirely.

Loki throws his head back and shouts at the sky with glee. He’s back.

 

***

 

          Someone has left a pile of wet shells on the dining room table. It’s the first thing Tony notices when he walks in to pour himself another cup of coffee. There’s got to be at least twenty of them, all shiny from the water and stinking of fish. There’s also a large, heavy-looking tome that Tony recognizes as the  book Loki’s been reading for the past few days. Tony narrows his eyes and sets his mug down with a  _ clink. _ “Loki!” he shouts, hoping the god can hear him. “Get over here!”

“What is it, Tony?”

          The words are said directly into Tony’s ear, so close he can feel the warmth of Loki’s breath on his skin. “Fuck!” he shouts, jumping a good foot in the air. Loki looks amused as Tony rights himself. He’s looking much more regal than earlier, Tony notices. His hair isn’t hanging loose around his face anymore - he must have found some product, for it’s slicked back against his scalp. The tips are still just as curly as they were that morning. It takes all the willpower Tony has to not reach out and pull on one. Watch it stretch out and bounce back into place. 

The pink shirt Tony had let Loki borrow has been swapped out for another green tunic, this time worn under a black leather vest that, Tony hates himself for noticing, accents the dips and curves of Loki’s lithe body quite nicely. He’s also wearing what must be the Asgardian version of sweatpants - loose, low-riding cotton pants that are tied with a leather cord. Tony absolutely does not spend any time ogling the way the pants hang off Loki’s hips, or the dips of his collarbones that are visible under the tunic. He doesn’t. Not even once. 

“Tony?” Loki says again, snapping Tony out of the trance that he definitely wasn’t in in the first place. “Are you still here?”

“What? Oh. Yep, still here.” He gestures to the pile of seashells and the stupidly extravagant book on the table. “I’m guessing this was you?”

Loki looks guilty. “Yes.”

“Clean it up, please. I eat there. Sometimes. If Pepper makes me.”

Loki smiles wryly and waves a hand. The shells and book disappear. Tony gapes. Loki folds his hands behind his back. “Don’t look so surprised, Tony. It was only a matter of time before my magic returned.”

“I know, it’s just a little...weird.”

Loki shrugs his annoyingly perfectly shaped shoulders. “And the lantern in your chest is  _ weird. _ ”

“It’s, uh, actually called an Arc Reactor,” Tony corrects. 

Loki shrugs again. “My mistake. Anyways, is that all? I must return to my studies. My magic is steadily returning, but I must practice in order to keep it so.”

“Oh, yeah, go for it,” Tony says. “Just don’t leave your shit around my house again. Especially not your sorcerer shit. The last thing I need is for Pepper to start thinking I’m into witchcraft.”

Loki squints. “My magical devices are unusable by mortals such as yourself.”

Tony rubs his forehead with his hand. “Whatever, Maleficent. Go do your thing.”

Loki must have walked away quickly, because when Tony looks up again, he’s gone. 

 

***

 

          Loki does  _ not _ stop leaving his, as Tony describes it, “freaky witch shit” around the house. After a day and a half of finding amulets in the microwave, knives in the fruit bowl, and leather bags filled with herbs and bird bones in the cupboards, Tony figures out his resident alien wizard is doing it out of spite. Scooping up the latest bag of dead animal, Tony storms up to Loki’s room. “Listen here, you- what the  _ fuck. _ ” 

          The room he is standing in is one hundred percent not part of his house. For starters, the walls are dark brown and painted with gold leaf runes, and there’s around four different woven tapestries hanging from what looks to be curved daggers plunged into the wall. Then there’s the fact that what used to be a simple queen-sized bed has been turned into a massive thing carved out of an entire tree, the branches of which make up the headboard. There’s at least six different pelts thrown across the mattress, and too many pillows to count. An entire suit of Asgardian armour, complete with Loki’s signature horned helm, stands in the corner. The electric lights are gone, and the room is instead lit with candles that cast an orange glow over the room. There’s little flecks of gold, like fireflies, drifting through the air. The wall that used to be made of glass now matches the rest of the room, save for a doorway leading out onto a medieval-looking balcony. Gossamer gold curtains flutter in the wind let in from outside. There’s a massive stone fireplace in the corner, the mantel decorated with the various magical knick-knacks Loki has been leaving around the house and a bunch of shells, which are also visible on some of bookshelves that are along the entirety of the back wall that’s unobscured by the headboard with books, all bound in leather, all old. 

 

          The curtains shift and Loki walks in from the balcony, wearing a green robe tastefully embroidered with gold thread over a black tunic. The robe is artfully draped over his shoulders and is just long enough to caress the ground. He’s twirling an intricately crafted dagger in between his fingers. It’s about the length of Tony’s forearm, and is made of silver. There’s runes scratched into the base of the blade, and the hilt is shaped to look like a rearing cobra curling around the biggest emerald Tony has ever seen. The light from outside hits the gem and casts green reflections over the mage. Loki pauses when he sees Tony, expression totally unperturbed despite the obvious exasperation directed toward him. “Good afternoon, Anthony,” he says smoothly. The dagger comes to a rest and Loki places it upon the mantel with a gentle click. “You appear to be bothered by something. May I inquire as to what?”

Tony stares at him and slowly lets the bag of dead bird fall onto the pelts covering Loki’s bed. Loki watches it fall, clearly trying to suppress a shit-eating grin. “Oh, dear. I was wondering where I put that. Where did you find it?”

“It was in the shower, you asshole,” Tony snaps. “You put a dead bird in my shower.” 

Loki tuts and carefully picks up the pouch. “Now, now, Tony. Don’t be mad. It’s a cleansing pouch. Meant to expel any negative energy that may exist in an area.”

“It’s a fucking  _ dead bird in a bag. _ ”

“Yes,” is all Loki says, as he puts the bag in a woven basket with several other identical pouches. 

“Look,” Tony sighs. “You can’t keep doing that. I occasionally have people over here, and seeing a bag of bones  _ anywhere  _ isn’t exactly a turn on.”

Loki’s eyes glitter. “Like I said. Negative energy.”

“You son of a bitch,” Tony grumbles, though the malice in his voice is gone. 

“Actually, my mother is a lovely woman,” Loki chides. 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Cool. Samesies, I guess. Anyways, can you just...stop leaving your shit everywhere? I will actually pay you to stop.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “I have no use of Midgardian currency.”

“Jesus Christ- okay, whatever, just  _ knock it off. _ Got it?”

Loki smiles. “Very well, Tony.”   
“ _ Thank  _ you,” Tony says, relieved. “And also, what the shit did you do to my room?”

Loki looks around. “I thought it was obvious. Redecorating,” he says simply, as if discussing the weather and not the magical refurbishing of Tony’s guest room. “It was too bland for me.”

Tony highly considers cuffing the cocky smirk off Loki’s face. 

“Don’t do it again,” he warns. Loki waves a hand. “I don’t plan to. You can keep your Midgardian furniture elsewhere.” 

Tony turns to leave. 

“Oh, one last thing...” Loki hums. “You may want to check your entertainment theatre. I do recall leaving behind a few things in there.”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Loki.”

 

***

 

          Rhodey calls Tony at five thirty, and Tony’s so distracted by his suit that he doesn’t pick up until JARVIS informs him at six that he has two missed calls from one James Rhodes. Luckily, Rhodey isn’t pissed when Tony finally calls him back, which may be because when he picks up, he’s wearing a tanktop and is covered in oil. Rhodey doesn’t even bat an eye. “Hey, man, what’s up?” he says. “Nothing all that exciting,” Tony responds, popping open a jammed compartment in his suit with a screwdriver. “Upgrading this thing,” he says, smacking the suit with the screwdriver. The connection makes a hollow metallic  _ clang. _

“Oh, how’s that going? Have you finally installed a speaker system that’ll play a cool theme song when you bust into battle?” He says this jokingly, but Tony shoots him a sly smile that clearly states that he’s been thinking about it. Rhodey rolls his eyes. “Why do I even bother making jokes anymore?”

“Dunno, Rhodey,” Tony says, and rubs a grease spot off the shiny red metal. “Maybe it’s because you still think you’re funny.”

“Ouch.”

Tony chortles. “Fuck you, man,” Rhodey complains. 

“Maybe later,” Tony says, without skipping a beat. “Speaking of which-”

“Excuse me?”

“Keep it in your pants, Rhodes, this is about Pepper.”

“And that’s better?”

Tony runs a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe not the best way to change the subject, but on the topic of people I’ve-”

“Nope!” Rhodey waves his hands wildly. “Don’t want to hear it! Pepper is my friend too!”

“Okay, okay! I was just wondering if you know who she’s going to the One Step gala with. She dropped off my invitation today.”

Rhodey leans back against the chair he’s sitting in. “I don’t think she’s going with anybody. At least, she didn’t say anything about it. Maybe she knew you’d ask and she didn’t want you to show up on the guy’s doorstep with a shotgun.”

Tony points the screwdriver he’s still holding at the holoscreen. “We broke up on good terms and you know it. I’m not jealous. I was just wondering.”

“Sure,” Rhodey says drily. Tony flips him off. “Shut up. Anyways, she said you were going, so you’d better be, because if you’re not and I end up there by myself, I will fly down to your house and kick your ass.”

“Chill, Stark, I’ll be there. I’ve got my suit and everything.”

Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I like parties,” Rhodey says defensively. “And not your loud clubbing parties. Formal parties, where they serve tiny sandwiches and everybody dresses up nice.”

“I am well aware of your love for tiny sandwiches,” Tony says. “And I still think you’re weird.”

“Whatever, man,” Rhodey complains. “What about you? You got anyone special in mind to take with you?”

Tony sets the screwdriver down. An image pops into his head, of black hair and green eyes, pale skin and a polite yet nervous smile. “Y’know what?” he says slowly, a smile playing on his lips, “I think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you know that "you put a dead bird in my shower" is simultaneously the best and worst line I have ever written
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT, JUNE 4TH: Aight so bc I was hella busy all weekend, Chapter 4 is around half finished, so depending on how much free time I get today, it should be up either late today or sometime tomorrow.


	4. Teach Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony decides to invite Loki to the gala, he realizes there's some prep work that needs to be done. In particular, teaching Loki some basic dances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me wayyyyy too long & I'm not even happy with how it turned out.

 

Of all the bad ideas Tony’s had, and there have been quite a few, this is decidedly one of the worst. Tony knows this, because he’s about to ask a Norse god to be his date to a ball. And that’s just plain stupid. _Actually,_ he reminds himself, _he wouldn’t be your “date”. He would be your friend. And it’s a good way to get Loki used to Earth culture._

Still, there is a chance that Loki will take it the wrong way and stab him, because Tony knows that’s something he does a lot.

 

He leaves the invitation open on the table, where he knows Loki will see it. And given Loki’s repertoire, he’ll pick it up and read it. Probably ask what it is. If not, Tony will just come up with some other plan.

 

Tony’s brewing another cup of coffee when Loki appears behind him. He learned after a few late-night instances that the jackass can teleport, and despite knowing this, it still scares the hell out of him every damn time he turns around and Loki’s _right there._ Like this time, when Tony picks up his mug, turns around, and collides with Loki’s chest. “Christ!” he shouts, at which Loki laughs in that stupidly adorable way of his. “Stop doing that!” Tony places the blue “Everyone is entitled to my opinion” mug back on the counter and wipes the drips of spilled coffee off his shirt. “I get that you’re a god and all, but that does not give you the right to make me piss myself every time you enter a room. Use the door, like a normal person. Remember what doors are? I’m pretty sure we’ve had this conversation before.”

Loki sits down on one of the chairs in the dining area and crosses one leg over the other. “I find it amusing to watch you sputter,” he mocks. Tony glares at him. “You’re a dick,” he mutters. Loki smiles cheekily. “I know.”

Tony shakes his head in faked dismay. “Letting you into my life was a mistake.”

Loki winks and takes a drink of coffee. Tony squints. “Hey!” he protests, swivelling back to the counter, and yep, his mug is gone. “Really? That’s mine!”

Loki screws his face up in disgust. “And you can have it. That is truly atrocious. You drink this willingly?”

Tony snatches the mug away from him. “It keeps me up. And it’s the nectar of the gods.”  
“It’s really not,” Loki corrects quietly. “What’s this?” He picks up the definitely-not-planted invitation. Tony feigns obliviousness. “That? Oh, it’s some silly invite to a banquet thing.”

Loki turns the card over and examines it. “I used to go to banquets.”  
“Really, now?”

Loki nods. “Yes, my father would host them quite often. I never really enjoyed them, but I think that was mainly because Thor constantly dragged me around to flirt with the ladies. He’d get me to do magic to impress them, because apparently wielding Mjolnir wasn’t impressive enough.” He wrinkles his nose. “There were also too many people attempting to woo me to their side.”

Tony deflates a little. “It’s funny, actually,” he says, forcing himself to go through with this, “I was gonna ask if you wanted to come. I can take one other person and my usual date is going with someone else.”

“Your...date? Like a courtship?”

“No! No, not at all. Just like, the person I usually go to things like this. Pepper,” he clarifies. And then winces, because he half expects Loki to perk up at that. Instead, Loki nods slowly. “I see. Can you be sure Thor will not be there?”

Tony grins. “I can guarantee your jock brother will _not_ be at this random Earth ball.”

“Then I would be happy to go with you,” Loki says, and wow, are his eyes dazzling. How did Tony not realize that before? “Great!” Tony blurts out, mentally kicking himself at the overly excited response. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s cool. So, uh, these banquets on Asgard. Did you dance at them?”

Loki cocks his head. “If by dancing, you mean swaying to the rhythm of music, then yes. We danced.”

“Okay, good. That means I don’t have to start from square one. You know how to waltz?”

Loki’s expression is a good enough answer.

“No. Got it. Don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Loki leans back in his chair, amused. “You’ll teach me.”

Tony shrugs. “Why not? It’ll be fun. And, on the bright side, you won’t look like an idiot. After all, you’ll be with me, and everybody there will want to be impressed by - and maybe a little jealous of - you. Not that your dashing good looks and godly charm won’t do that.”

Loki huffs out a laugh. “I am truly flattered, Tony. When do we start?”

Tony pauses. “Uh. Whenever...you want?” he says weakly. Loki practically jumps to his feet. “Very well. I will go find a suitable outfit for this “waltz”.” And then he’s gone, with a swish of his fancy embroidered robes. Tony smiles dorkily to himself and sips his coffee.

***

The last true banquet Loki had attended had been in honour of Thor officially being chosen as the heir to the throne. It was rather insensitive, really, to have everybody there expect Loki to be cheerful and friendly when his brother, who was in no way ready to rule, had just been declared heir. It wasn’t as if he thought _he_ would be chosen, but still. He wished he’d had the option to respectively decline and instead lock himself away in his quarters, throwing daggers at the wall and setting things on fire. But no, he’d been forced to dress up in fur robes and the ceremonial version of his helm, which was so heavy he thought it would break his neck every time he wore it. The robes were always too hot, and the woollen tunic and surcoat underneath just made things worse. Thor looked regal, all red and silver, with purple heather braided into his blonde hair. Next to him, Loki felt like a weasel.

Frigga caught him practicing magic under the table twice during Odin’s speech. Thor didn’t mind; he was just pleased Loki was “enjoying himself”.

It was a good thing Thor couldn’t read people as well as Loki can, because then his opinion would have been very different.

 

The memory brings a dark smile to Loki’s face as he changes into the under armour jumpsuit he used to wear for combat training. It was one of many articles of clothing he’d summoned from his wardrobe on Asgard, thanks to a spell he’d created four centuries earlier. He didn’t bother wearing his chestplate or leg guards, because unless Midgardian dancing called for blades being swung around, there was no reason for armour. He does, however, tie a woven green sash round his waist for good measure. He waves a hand over his hair, and it braids itself back neatly. One thing Loki had learned from any sort of social gathering on Asgard was that long hair would constantly be pulled while dancing. He did not wish to have that happen again.

 

Loki walks out of his room and is immediately accosted by Tony’s invisible assistant.

 _“Good day, Mr. Loki. Mr. Stark is awaiting you in his workshop.”_  

Loki scowls in the general direction JARVIS’s voice came from and sets off to the workshop.

 

Tony has cleared out a large portion of space in the middle of his workshop, and is sitting on the hood of one of his electrical carriages, playing with a rectangle of glass that illuminates his face. He looks up when Loki opens the door, and slides off the carriage. “My, don’t you look athletic. I am _loving_ the hip scarf. Very log-driver-esque.”

Loki crosses his arms. “Pardon?”

Tony chuckles. “Nevermind. Okay, so. I called Pepper, because she’s better at this than I am, but she’s caught up in some stuff at the moment and won’t be here for a bit. Until then, you get the privilege of dancing with me.”

Loki sidles up to meet Tony in the center of the room. “Is that truly a privilege?” he says airily. Tony presses a hand to his chest and scoffs in mock offense. “Dancing with me is an _honour._ You should be thanking me.”

Loki arches an eyebrow. “I assure you, Anthony, it is _you_ that should be honoured to be teaching _me._ I am, after all, a prince.”

Tony shakes his head. “Pulling the royalty card. Of course.”  
Loki grins. “Teach me how to dance, Stark. I wouldn’t want to look like a fool at this gala of yours.”

 

Tony tries very hard not to show how much he’s freaking out. He hears himself giving instructions, and then suddenly Loki’s right hand is in Tony’s left, and Tony has his hand placed gingerly on Loki’s waist. They’re pressed together and Tony can’t help but feel tiny, because good _god_ Loki is tall. He’s also incredibly muscular, which Tony hadn’t realized until now. “What now, Tony?” Loki’s smooth voice cuts through Tony’s thoughts and he jumps slightly. “Right. Okay. Um, now, just- hold on. JARVIS!” he calls.   
_“Yes, sir?”_

“Put on that playlist I made. On repeat, please.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

There’s a click and the air is suddenly filled with loud, elegant waltz music. Loki’s eyes widen and he looks around, amazed by the wonder that is surround sound. Tony holds in a laugh, as the god looks like a little kid, with the way he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Your technology,” he says slowly, “is truly incredible .”

Tony gives a nonchalant shrug. “ _I’m_ incredible.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You are truly not one for humble actions, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Tony agrees. Loki snickers. Tony grins up at him. “Ready to begin?”

Loki dips his head. “Of course.”

“Right, so first, just follow my lead. Super simple, just step forward, then back.”

Loki does, and promptly digs the heel of his boot into Tony’s foot. He jumps back, looking guilty and apologizing profusely. Tony chokes out an “It’s fine” through watering eyes. “For future reference,” he wheezes, “The whole point is to _not_ step on your partner.”

Loki ducks his head apologetically. “I am so sorry,” he says again. Tony waves it off. “It happens. Come on, let’s try again.” He gestures for Loki to rejoin, and then they’re touching again, Loki tall and agile above Tony. “Alright, now we’re just gonna move side to side, yeah, like that.” Tony watches the ground as they move. “And turn...and again, and-ow! Loki! Watch where you’re putting your feet!”

Loki drops his head onto Tony’s shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, voice muffled by Tony’s shirt. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Tony nudges Loki off of him. “Hey, better me than some pretty lass at the gala.”

Loki makes a noise in agreement, and they keep dancing. Loki keeps accidentally trodding on Tony’s toes, and after the seventh or eighth time, they’ve both been reduced to hysterics as they awkwardly spin around the workshop. Tony hasn’t laughed this hard in ages, and Loki can’t remember the last time he was able to feel happy without a black cloud of dread rearing its ugly head over him.

Tony’s hands are both on Loki’s waist now, and the god has draped his arms over Tony’s shoulders. They’ve stopped spinning and are simply swaying to the music. If this was with anyone else, Tony realizes, he would be miserable. Embarrassed, even. But with Loki, who’s practically draped across him, Tony doesn’t feel awkward at all. Somehow it’s casual, even though there’s a romantic-sounding waltz playing in the background. It’s...nice, Tony decides. Peaceful. Serene.

 

“May I lead?” Loki asks suddenly. Tony blinks. “What?”

“May I lead a dance,” Loki repeats. “After all, that is most likely what I will have to do.”

“That’s true.” Tony pulls his hands off of Loki’s waist. “You remember how I did it? Slow circles, back and forward.”

Loki nods. “Yes, I have it.”

He draws Tony in close with a hand on his waist and an overly dramatic show of intertwining his fingers with Tony’s. He’s actually quite good at leading, Tony discovers. Loki only steps on his foot once, so it’s an A plus in Tony’s books.

 

They spin around the workshop for a while longer, until Loki steers them too close to a pile of junk Tony had dumped in a corner. Tony backs into it and slips on a thin sheet of metal that’s been viciously beaten with a hammer. He falls, none too gracefully, pulling Loki down with him. They both stare at each other in shock. Loki’s hair is starting to come out of its braid. Tony can see little flecks of gold in the green of Loki’s eyes. They’re pressed against each other in a rather compromising position, so close that Tony can feel the steady hammering of Loki’s heart against his own chest.

 

And then, of course, Pepper walks in.

 

And from the door, what she sees would look, Tony assumes, quite bad. Like, taking-each-other’s-clothes-off bad. Panicking, Tony practically shoves Loki off of him, leading to Loki falling against the concrete floor with an indignant huff. Tony can feel heat rising to his face. “Pep, this is absolutely not what it looks like,” he begins. Pepper cuts him off. “Tony, I’m sure you have a perfectly logical excuse, but I have walked in on much worse. Mr. Lysmythe, nice to see you again.”

“And you,” Loki says graciously from his spot on the floor.

He stands up gracefully and dusts off his black clothing, then offers a hand to Tony. Tony accepts it and pulls himself up. “Thanks for coming, Pep. You know how bad I am at teaching people how to dance.”

“Oh, I know better than most,” Pepper says delicately. “I know because you were originally terrible at dancing.”

Tony makes a face in agreement. Pepper sets her canvas bag down next to Tony’s workbench and joins them in the middle of the room. “So, you’re joining Tony at the gala, Loki?”

Loki dips his head. “He thinks that it will be good for me to experience the, ah, _culture_ of this country.”

Pepper tilts her head. “Where are you from?”

“London,” Loki answers easily. “But I was born in Norway.”

Pepper nods in understanding. “That would explain your name. I’m assuming it’s Norwegian?”

“It is,” Loki confirms. “My parents were quite fond of Norse Mythology; both my brother and I are named after gods.”

“And...which one are you named after?” She’s genuinely curious, Tony can tell, but he can see the irritation flash across Loki’s features. “The god of mischief,” he responds, voice dropping from friendly to cold. Pepper obviously notices the change in his tone and flushes pink with humiliation. “Well!” Tony interrupts, breaking the tension so thick you could see it, “If you two would stop your flirting, I believe we have a job to do.”   
“Right,” Pepper says, dragging her gaze away from Loki. “What have you gone over?”

“Basics,” Tony replies. “He’s good. When he’s not stepping on me.”

“Alright, well, I’ll continue with that then. But first, Tony, can I talk to you?” Her eyes flick back to Loki, who returns her gaze with a cold smile that matches the dangerous light in his eyes. “Privately, if you wouldn’t mind?”  
Tony looks between the two. “Yeah, sure. Here, just come out into the stairwell. Loki, can you wait here for a minute?”

Loki flicks a hand in affirmation.

Tony escorts Pepper out the door, a hand on her elbow. “What’s up?” he asks, once the door has clicked shut behind them. Pepper shifts uncomfortably. “Where did you meet Loki?” she says quietly. Tony freezes up. “Uh...he was just...at a party I went to,” he says lamely. Pepper rubs her arms. “Tony, I don’t think he’s who he says he is.”

“And I think you’ll find he’s _exactly_ who he says he is,” Tony tells her. Pepper glances nervously at Loki. “He’s dangerous, Tony. I don’t know how, but something about him...scares me.”

They both watch as Loki pokes at Dum-E and then jumps back, eyes wide and chest heaving when Dum-E snaps at his fingers.

“Oh yes,” Tony deadpans. “I can see how you think that he’s dangerous. That’s a cold-blooded killer right there.”

Pepper scowls at him. “Just keep an eye on him, will you?”

Tony pats her on the shoulder. “I will, Pep. Don’t you worry. I wouldn’t be taking him to this thing if I thought he could hurt someone. The worst he’s done is leave some of his weird witch stuff around the house.”

Pepper raises her eyebrow. “His _what_?”

Tony closes his eyes. Shit. “He’s a Wiccan,” he says, but it comes out as more of a question. “Y’know. Herbs and candles and all that jazz.”

Pepper still looks skeptical. “If you wind up dead, I know exactly who I’m blaming, and also, I am going to get the stonemasons to write “Pepper Potts was right” on your tombstone.”

Tony lightly punches her in the arm. “I get it, I get it. But come on. He’s a cool guy. A little odd, sure, but I guarantee he’s got manners like a prince.” He smiles a little at his own joke, which Pepper doesn’t get. She just rolls her eyes and walks back into the workshop.

Tony follows suit.

 

Loki catches on quickly, and within a few hours he’s able to sweep gracefully around the room without stepping on his partner’s feet. Tony imagines he’ll be quite the spectacle at the event. He’ll catch the attention of some girls, that’s for sure. Pepper seems to have quickly eased up on her mistrust of Loki, as he slipped right back into his flirty ways when Tony and Pepper came back from speaking in the stairwell. Tony’s glad that she won’t be poised to phone the police, or worse, S.H.I.E.L.D., on Loki, but he can’t say he’s fond of the way Loki is captivating Pepper. He still doesn’t know if Loki is genuinely interested in her, or if he’s just charming her because it’s his way of being polite. It’s not like he’s easy to decipher. Either way, seeing the two of them dancing and laughing makes Tony want to punch something. Not out of anger, at least, he doesn’t _think_ it’s out of anger, but rather out of an emotion Tony has yet to identify.

He ends up backing out of the dancing for a while in order to half-heartedly poke at a prototype left on his workbench. “I’m working,” he says, when Loki guides Pepper over to him and asks what he’s doing. He’s really not, though. He’s more focused on Loki, and the way that he spins, the way that he gracefully travels across the room with Pepper.

They moved on from the waltz a little bit after Tony retired. Loki appears to be teaching Pepper a dance now, and judging by the bright smile on her face, she’s enjoying it. Tony tears his eyes away from the pair and angrily stabs at a clasp in the prototype blaster with a pair of pliers. There’s a snapping noise and three different wires shoot upwards. Tony feels like smashing his head against the table. Damn wiring.  

 

There are a few times where Loki will glance over at Tony, and immediately Tony will snap his attention back to the blaster prototype that he’s now torn apart by tearing at it with the pliers. Time seems to pass by obnoxiously slowly - seriously, are they done flouncing around his workshop? He invited Pepper over to _teach_ Loki how to dance, not to have a date in _Tony’s basement._

“I’m gonna order a pizza,” Tony announces. He pushes himself to his feet, using the workbench as a crutch. “Get breadsticks with it!” Pepper calls at his retreating back. Tony throws her a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

 

By the time the pizza arrives, Pepper and Loki are out of breath, and both of them - _both_ \- are giggling. Tony scowls behind the stack of pizza boxes (that nobody offered to help him with) as he pushes scrapped projects and paper off a table in order to put them down. The pizza boxes slide and nearly fall, and of course, _that’s_ when Loki & Pepper notice he’s back. “Thanks for the help, guys,” he grumbles. Pepper ducks her head in apology. Loki just shrugs.

 

“You know,” Loki muses, once all of them are sitting on the floor with a precarious stack of pizza slices on a napkin, “I must say that this-“ he waves his slice of half-eaten pizza around. “-is possibly the best thing Tony has introduced me to since my arrival.”

Pepper wipes her hands on a napkin. “Did you never have pizza back in London?”

Loki shakes his head. “My parents were very...traditional, you might say. They were quite rich and didn’t often let us enjoy the pleasantries granted to children of lower social status. So no, I never had pizza.”

“Now that’s just fucked up,” Tony says through a mouthful. “I can’t imagine a world without pizza.”

Loki chuckles softly. Tony grins and takes another bite.

They all eat in companionable silence for a while, exhausted from dancing. Tony remembers the first time he ordered pizza with Loki in the house - it was also the time he introduced Loki to television. (Note to self - explain the plot and that it’s fictional _before_ watching “Terminator” with a god who doesn’t know what a movie is.) Loki had been confused, at first - _“I don’t understand. Why mix all these perfectly splendid foods together?”_ \- but then, Tony found he regretted introducing it to him in the first place, because now that’s all he ate.

 

Pepper speaks first, breaking the lull of conversation. “So, Loki. Why’d you decide to come to America? I’ve been to London a few times. It’s a nice place.”

Loki stops eating. Places his half-eaten pizza back on the paper towel. Tony winces. The last time he asked Loki about his arrival, Loki had threatened to turn him into a toad. “It was...unintentional,” he replies quietly. “I left without really knowing where I was going; this is where I ended up.”

Pepper furrows her brow. “Oh. Well, are you liking it here?”

“It is enjoyable, yes.”

 

***

 

Pepper leaves after the sun has set. Tony comes up from his workshop to see Loki standing by the window, surveying the moonlight-bleached beach. “Hey,” he says softly, so he doesn’t startle the mage. Loki turns his head ever so slightly. “Anthony,” he greets. “I had fun today.”

Tony joins him by the window. “Yeah, me too. I think that was the first time in ages where I’ve actually _enjoyed_ dancing with someone.”

“You certainly seemed to be having fun,” he says smoothly. Tony cracks a grin. “Yeah.”

It’s silent for a moment. Tony sighs. It’s been what, a week and a half since Loki arrived? Something like that. “Hey, Loki?” he says suddenly, and then promptly mentally curses himself out. “Hm?” Loki fixes him with those piercing green eyes. Tony swallows. Too late to go back now. “ What Pep asked you earlier...about your arrival. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but…I’d like to know. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to, but just know that I want to help you. And trust me, bottling bad shit up only leads to more bad shit.”

Loki closes his eyes and lowers his head. He says nothing. _It was worth a try,_ Tony thinks. He turns to leave when Loki speaks.

 

“When I was a child, my father told my brother and I that one day, one of us would become king. We would have to prove ourselves to not only him, but the people.”

 

Tony turns back, eyes widening. Loki doesn’t look at him as he continues. “I spent my whole life in the shadow of my older brother, watching him grow into an arrogant, brash prince. I loved him dearly, but deep down I knew that he couldn’t be king, because he only saw the throne as a means to start wars, and the Norns know Thor loved to fight.”

Tony sits down on the couch to listen.

“My father announced that Thor would be his heir at a banquet.” Loki’s lips twitch. “I did not feel jealousy, only a wave of foreboding.” He unclasps his hands and clenches them into fists. “On the day of his coronation, I flew into an insane panic and snuck several Jotun into Asgard. Jotun,” he explains, “are frost giants. They are the sworn enemy of Asgard. We were taught to kill them on sight. The giants I let in broke into Odin’s vault, intending to steal the casket, the source of their power. I meant only to disrupt Thor’s coronation, but…” Loki sighs. “I underestimated the rage of my brother. He was set on avenging the few soldiers the giants killed - so in retaliation, he gathered up Sif and the Warriors Three. His comrades in arms. He dragged all of us along to Jotunheim, realm of the frost giants, to “speak” with their king, Laufey.”

Tony takes a quick breath. Loki’s fists are digging into his palms now, and his voice has started to waver. “Thor started a battle. During it, I was grabbed by one of the Jotun. I…” he trails off, and Tony’s heart skips a beat as he sees a tear make its way down Loki’s face. “I didn’t feel it. I should’ve...should’ve been hurt, but instead, my skin turned blue, the colour of the Jotun.”

Tony recalls the blue tinge Loki had taken on when Tony had found him on the beach. He wonders if that was the same blue Loki was describing now. “Odin saved us,” Loki continues, “and banished Thor for his stupidity. I was left alone, without anyone to consult about what had happened on Jotunheim. So I went down to the vault, and found the casket. When I touched it…” He stops abruptly, and his eyes fly open, something akin to rage dancing in his green irises. He finally turns his head to look at Tony. “I discovered I had been lied to my whole life. I was not of royal blood. At least, not of _Aesir_ royal blood.” The anger in his eyes burns brighter, to the point where Tony flinches and has to look away. “Odin raised me as his own, but in reality, I was of Jotunheim. Laufey’s son. Just like that, everything I had ever known was whisked away from me. My own home was now a prison. Odin fell into the Odinsleep, and I took over the throne, as Thor was banished.” Loki stops talking, either to gather his thoughts or from overbearing emotion. “To make a long story short, I let more frost giants, including Laufey, into Asgard.” He raises his chin triumphantly. “But I double-crossed them. I slew Laufey, king of Jotunheim, my true father, where he stood, to prove myself worthy to the man I had called father my whole life.”

Tony watches as Loki’s shoulders sag. “But it wasn’t enough. Nothing I could do would _ever_ be enough to make Odin see that I was just as worthy of being king as Thor. I fought my brother on the bifrost bridge, used to travel between realms.” Another tear rolls down his face. “Thor shattered it with Mjolnir, and just as we were both about to fall into the void, Odin arrived and caught us with Gungnir, his spear. I tried to make him see, make him understand that I just wanted to be seen in the same light as Thor, but…” Loki’s blinking back tears now, looking more defeated then Tony had ever seen him. “...Odin just shook his head. I knew then that he only saw me as a pawn to play in a peace treaty. So I…” his voice softens. Tony feels nausea build in his stomach, having guessed what happened next.

“...I let go,” Loki finishes. The moonlight hits the tear tracks on his pale skin, making them glow. He wipes them away and straightens his back. “So now you know. How the prince of Asgard fell to Midgard. I am a monster, Anthony, and I always will be.”

Tony says nothing as he fully takes in everything Loki told him. He can imagine it, in a way. Wanting a father to see you as more than a publicity stunt. Sure, he never murdered someone or tried to overthrow a kingdom, but the pain of a neglected childhood? Yeah, he can relate to that. Loki’s watching him warily as he stands up. “You don’t have to shelter me anymore,” Loki murmurs, painfully quietly. “I understand if you wish me gone.”

Tony makes his way towards the crestfallen god, and before either of them have time to think, Tony’s embraced Loki in quite possibly the most heartfelt hug of Tony’s whole life. (Even though he has to stand on tip-toes just to get his arms around Loki’s neck.) Loki tenses, arms going ridgid at his sides. “You don’t have to worry,” Tony hears himself saying. “I trust you. I won’t leave you, if you want me to stay.”

Loki relaxes, and Tony feels him tentatively wrap his arms around Tony’s waist. He doesn’t say anything, but that’s alright, because Tony knows what Loki means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's saying "thank you" at the end, just fyi. No romance yet. Just awkward interactions and realizations.


	5. Suit Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes Loki out to find a suit, and realizes something about his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme tell y'all, I love the end of this chapter, and also we'll be getting more into the plot in chapter 6.

 

Tony didn’t think he’d ever actually succeed in comforting somebody. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get the god of chaos to open up to him in the first place, let alone how he’d ended up holding the guy in his arms as the god had cried into his shoulder. (Tony had pretended not to notice; he’d just stood there with Loki until the god had pulled away, flushed red.) But because of that, Loki’s trust of Tony had went from “mildly tolerable” to “the only friend I’ve got”, which was more than a little sad. 

_ It’s strange,  _ Tony had thought when he’d gone to bed that night,  _ that the first person I can truly relate to is an alien viking.  _

 

Loki, meanwhile, has found that telling someone about what happened was a big help - it’s as though a major weight was lifted from his shoulders. Tony didn’t care that he was a monster. In fact, when Loki had shown Tony, using his magic, what frost giants looked like, Tony had said “Those are the coolest fucking things I have seen”. That made Loki smile, and realize that yes, his Jotun form - which he had yet to reveal to Tony - was pretty neat. Not that he liked it. He still despised what he was, but now, he feels as though perhaps he could overcome that, one day. 

 

They keep having their dance lessons. Sometimes Pepper will join them, and they’ll eat shitty food and watch TV after they’re exhausted from dancing. Loki has decided that the “Starred Wars” trilogy, or whatever it was Tony called it, are his favourites, closely followed by the “Lord of the Rings” saga. Tony found great amusement in Loki’s reactions to all the twists in both. He’d flat out yelled when Gandalf had been taken by the Balrog. Tony had laughed for five straight minutes after that. 

Other times, though, it’ll just be the two of them, laughing and twirling around in the basement as if they’ve known each other for years. (Tony likes those times the best. Loki doesn’t say it aloud, but he does too.)

 

Aside from their dance lessons, there was one other thing Loki needed for the gala. And Tony was having an increasingly hard time convincing him of it. 

 

“I don’t understand why I cannot wear my ceremonial armour to this event.”

 

“Jesus, Lokes, you just can’t! You keep like forty knives on you when you’re in your damn pyjamas, I don’t want to know how many are built into that suit of yours. Besides, that’s not how we dress down here.”

 

“I’ve seen how you dress, and I am disappointed.”

 

“Hey man, if I could show up to this thing in my full Iron Man armour, I fucking would, but unfortunately, this place is gonna be filled with rich folks with sticks up their asses, so we’re just gonna try and blend in. Okay?”

 

Loki crosses his arms. “I want to wear my cloak, at the very least. It is tradition.”

Tony rubs his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Okay, we’ll sort that out later. Right now, though, you need a suit. We can go and get you the most royal looking suit out there, and you can blow everybody away with that. Alright?’

Loki eyes Tony for a few seconds, annoyed. “Fine!” he finally concedes, and throws his hands up in defeat. Tony grins. “There we go. We’ll go get you fitted this afternoon, okay? I’ve got some work I need to finish.”   
“Will you be in your lab?” 

Tony blinks. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re in your lab too much.”

“Okay, I didn’t rescue you just to have you judge my work ethic.”

Loki scoffs. “Your “work ethic” is just you staying up until the sun rises, and then falling asleep at your desk.”

Tony points at him. “You’re goddamn right that’s what it is. And I get shit done that way.”

Loki just raises an eyebrow and sips his tea. He took a fancy to it after Pepper brought some over, and now Tony’s finding himself buying six different types every time he goes to pick up coffee. 

It’s also highly amusing to watch Loki, the god of chaos, drink from a hot pink mug that says “Drama Queen”. (Rhodey bought it for Tony as a gag gift; the joke was on him, though, because Tony started bringing it to work.) 

 

They’ve settled into a routine, which Tony will admit, is weird. He’s used to waking up a little after twelve, depending on when he fell asleep that night. Now he wakes up earlier, and Loki’s always waiting for him in the dining room, wrapped in a fur blanket and reading one of the many books from his mini library. He tried to make Tony coffee once - it ended with Tony having to get a new coffee machine, as Loki had gotten annoyed and set the old one on fire. Because that was something he did, occasionally. Or more often, just plain stab something. (Rest in pieces Tony’s second-favourite vase, a glass dolphin from who knows where, and the clay globe that had once sat atop one of the cabinets.)

Tony’s discovered that the mornings are now his favourite part of the day. Again, weird. But not entirely awful. 

 

Loki leaves the table first, dismissing his furs with a wave of his hands. He says something about research, but Tony doesn’t fully hear him. He’s more focused on how Loki has swept his long hair over one shoulder, exposing the graceful lines of his neck. Tony distracts himself by chugging his still-boiling coffee. 

Stupid gods and their perfect selves. 

 

***

 

There were two important things Tony keeps forgetting about Loki. One, he’s the god of mischief, and two, he is incredibly impatient. Tony finds this out the hard way when it’s twelve thirty, and he’s still in his workshop, implementing a new targeting system into the MK VII. 

He reaches for his ammeter, only for it to scoot just out of his reach. He frowns and gropes around on the table for it, trying to avoid falling off the step ladder he’s standing on. The ammeter flies out of his reach again, this time falling off the table completely. “What the shit?” Tony mutters. He clambers off the ladder and walks over to it. The damn thing slides away  _ again.  _ “For fuck’s sake!” he complains, as it scuttles off to disappear under one of Tony’s cars. Tony groans. “Loki!” he hollers. He’s met with silence, and then something smacking him in the back of the head. “Ow!” he yelps, and swivels on the spot. A screwdriver clatters to the ground. “Loki, knock it off!”

Silence. 

“...Loki?”

“Anthony.”

Tony turns to see Loki sitting unfairly elegantly atop his workbench, one leg thrown over the other. “Asshole,” Tony snaps, as he rubs the back of his head. “That fucking hurt.”

Loki feigns concern. “Are you dead?”

“No.”   
“Then stop complaining.” He hops neatly off the table, like a cat, and strides up to Tony. “Are we leaving, or did you make me wear this ridiculous outfit for nothing?”

Tony scans Loki, and cracks a grin, as he’s changed from his usual Asgardian robes into a pair of black pants, dress shoes, a tight green shirt, and a leather jacket straight out of  _ Grease. _ “Looking good, Zuko!” He remarks. Loki scowls. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I feel stupid.”

Tony pats his shoulder. “I’m sure. Let me grab my jacket and sunglasses. Then we can go.”

 

***

 

Cars are, Loki decides, the worst. Tony piled them into a sleek blue car, and Loki had immediately hissed in pain as the hot leather of the seats had touched his skin. Plus, Tony is a reckless driver, and ten minutes into the drive, Loki is pressed against the back of the seat, feeling like he’s going to vomit. Tony, of course, is cackling, taking great pleasure in watching Loki’s discomfort. “I don’t like this,” Loki groans. Tony laughs. “I can tell. How’d you get around up in space Norway? Horses?”

“Occasionally,” Loki responds, reclining his head against the seat. “But it was more common to walk around the city, or go long distances by boat.”

“Boat?”   
“Yes. They flew. The waters were too treacherous.”

“That’s awesome.”

Loki grunts. “Not really. They were unstable. Thor tripped me off one once.”

Tony looks at him sharply, concerned under the ridiculous sunglasses he wore. “What?”

“It was an accident. We were sixteen, and Thor was learning to pilot one. He pulled the wrong rope and I fell off the side.”

Tony shakes his head and diverts his attention back to the road. “You guys have zero regard for safety.”

Loki shrugs. “It takes a lot to kill a god. I broke an arm, that was it.”

“Fucking hell.”

Loki smiles. “I had an eventful childhood.”

“Yeah, kinda got that. Hey, you want to hit that button on the dash there?” He points to a round black dial. “That one.” 

Loki presses it and the car fills with loud music. He starts momentarily. Tony whistles. “Oh wow, I haven’t heard this one in ages!” He reaches over and cranks the volume. Loki winces as it gets louder. “What is this?” He half-shouts over the noise. “Boston!” Tony shouts back. “Peace of Mind! Damn good song!” He starts loudly singing along, hitting the steering wheel in time with the beat of the song. Loki snorts in amusement. “Your version of music is very different than mine!” He comments, still raising his voice. There’s a break in the singing, which Tony takes as an opportunity to respond. “I’m not surprised. You strike me as a guy who would grow up with, like, gospel choirs and harps.”

Loki dips his head in affirmation. “That is...correct, yes. The Aesir are not very musical people. At least, not in my experience. I tended to avoid as many social gatherings as I could.”

“Weren’t you a prince?”   
“Yes, a prince who can create clones of himself,” Loki replies airily. “I just needed to appear there, not talk to anybody.”

“Good point.”

The singing starts up again and Tony joins in, getting very aggressively into it. Loki nestles into the corner of the seat and leans his head against the window, watching the world rush by in a blur of colours and light.

 

***

 

They’re in the car for over an hour before finally arriving in Los Angeles, where Tony assures Loki they’ll find the perfect suit for him. Loki stumbles out of the car and leans heavily against a lamppost. His stomach lurches. “Never,” he moans, “Put me in that thing again.”

Tony pats him on the back. “You’ll get used to it.” He checks his watch. “We’ve got an hour and a half before we have to meet Jonas, so let’s get something to eat. Do a bit of sightseeing.”   
“Jonas?”

“My tailor,” Tony replies. “He’s an old friend. I made an appointment before we left.”

“Oh.”

 

Loki blinks in the bright sun, taking in the massive buildings and bustling crowds of people. It’s nothing like Asgard. For starters, there’s way too many people, and they’re all elbowing one another, clearly having no regard for their fellow people. Then there’s the buildings, that are obscenely coloured, and the hundreds of cars honking at each other as they slowly roll down crowded streets. It’s an out of control, chaotic mess of a place. “Tony,” Loki says, “I love this place.”

Tony laughs. “Thought you might. C’mon, there’s this good little café a block or so from here.” He pauses. “I’m getting that right, aren’t I, JARVIS?” 

Loki’s lips part in surprise when the voice of Tony’s A.I. responds from Tony’s phone.

_ “You are correct, sir. Fire & Ice Bar is just down the road. Would you like me to map out a route for you?” _

“No, thank you, J. I’ve got it. This way,” he says to Loki, and sets off. Loki follows him, still admiring the city around him. 

 

***

 

The pair walks down the streets, eating grilled sandwiches and drinking frozen, sugary drinks from the café Tony takes them to, while discussing the upcoming gala. Tony regales Loki with stories from previous banquets he’s been to. Loki laughs in the right places, and occasionally treats Tony to what he’s branded the “Liesmith Look of Disappointment™” when Tony mentions something particularly stupid he’s done in the past. 

Loki’s more relaxed when it comes to telling stories from Asgard now, and he proves this by telling - rather dramatically - the story of when he accidentally caused all of Lady Sif’s hair to fall out due to a misfired spell. (Apparently that was what made Sif dislike Loki. Which was understandable, to Tony.)

 

Because it’s Loki’s first time in a big city, Tony insists on taking him to all of his personal favourite places.  Loki seems to enjoy it, due to the fact that he keeps asking dumb questions like a little kid, and Tony has to make sure he doesn’t wander off, because finding someone in L.A. is next to impossible. He’s particularly amused by the Hollywood Walk of Fame and the wax museum Tony drags him into. (Although creeped out may be a better description of Loki’s reaction to the wax figures.) Tony has never heard Loki be this talkative - it’s as if a whole new person has taken the place of the mage. Well. Kind of. He’s still the same eloquent, princely person he’s always been, but there’s a new spring in his step and he insists on taking photos with Tony’s phone. (Having to teach Loki how to use the camera option is one of the highlights of Tony’s day.) Tony ends up with four accidental selfies taken by Loki, and Tony doesn’t delete them. He makes a note to set Loki up with a StarkPhone of his own.

 

By the end of the hour, there’s over thirty photos of Loki getting excited over mundane things, like a revolving door, on Tony’s phone. 

 

It’s the best day of Tony’s life, and it isn’t even over. Tony gets recognized three times, and he introduces Loki as a “business partner”. When they’re approached, Loki immediately slips back into his royal manners, all charm and polite smiles. No trace of the guy who had just stopped for five minutes to pet a dog. The first two times are random strangers on the street - the third is a guy Tony recognizes, vaguely, but whose name he can’t remember. David? Davis? Dudley? Something like that. Whoever he is, he’s ecstatic to see Tony, and Tony forces himself to make awkward conversation with the guy while Loki glares at him from a couple steps behind Tony. 

“I didn’t like that man,” Loki says once Tony managed to escape from what’s-his-name. “He was too...inquisitive.”

“Oh, I’m used to it.”

“Did you know him?”

Tony shrugs. “If I did, I was probably very drunk, because I don’t remember him now.”

“He also thought we were a couple,” Loki says absently. Tony stops in his tracks. “What?” he manages. Loki looks back at him. “I thought it was obvious. Whoever that was assumed we are courting each other.” He pauses. “I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

Tony crosses his arms. “No, nothing like that. I’m not, like, against that or anything, it’s just - why you?”

Loki raises an eyebrow. Tony slaps a hand against his forehead. “Fuck, that sounded rude. Not what I meant. I’d totally date you, by the way, it’s just-”

“Tony?”

“-I’m not really into guys that way? Well, sometimes, but not all the time-”

“Tony.”

“-unless I’m feeling like I  _ really  _ want to sleep with a guy, in which case-”

“ _ Anthony.” _

“Yeah?”

“You’re rambling.”

Tony clears his throat. “Oh. Sorry. Are you, uh, cool with that? Like, guys being with guys. Did that happen on Asgard?”

Loki smirks. “My dear Anthony, I may not have been as desirable as Thor, nor was I as, how shall I put it,  _ active _ as him, but I can assure you that of all the people who have warmed my bed, there is an even balance of male and female.”

Tony thinks he should probably look a little less pleased. 

Loki doesn’t notice, because he’s wandered off to pet another dog. 

 

***

 

It takes Tony ten minutes to convince Loki to get back in the car. (“I will just meet you there!”

“You don’t even know where we’re going!” “I’ll figure it out!) The only other person Tony had ever met who was as stubborn as Loki was himself, and that wasn’t a good thing. It was quite the opposite, really. 

Needless to say, Loki was scowling the entire ride over to the tailor. It would’ve been funny, if Tony hadn’t been scared Loki was about to shank him with one of the knives he could summon at a moment’s notice. 

 

When they arrive at the tailor, which is a massive two-story building in downtown L.A., Loki perks up almost immediately. While Tony speaks to the receptionist, Loki wanders around the accessory department, admiring tiny cufflinks shaped like roses and taking particular interest in a ring shaped like a snake with its tail in its mouth. 

“Lokes?” Tony calls, and Loki tears his attention away from the piece of jewelry and walks back to Tony, who’s been joined by a tall man in his late fifties. He’s wearing an exquisitely tailored grey suit that matches his salt-and-pepper hair. His blue eyes twinkle as he extends a hand for Loki to shake. Loki politely accepts it, looking to Tony for an introduction. “Lokes, this is Jonas Attkins. Guy’s suited me up since way before I was running the business.”

“Please, just call me Jonas,” Jonas says kindly. “Tony tells me you’ve got a rather grand taste in clothing.” He says this as he scans Loki, taking in the perfectly coordinated ensemble Loki had conjured up. “I think I’ve got just the thing. Tony, why don’t you come up with us? I’m guessing you’ll want some input on the suit, if you’re going for a matching theme.

Tony clicks his tongue. “You know me so well. Let’s go.”

 

Loki stands oddly close to Tony in the elevator. He’s close enough that Tony can feel the sleeve of Loki’s leather jacket brush against his own. 

 

Jonas’s studio is significantly neater than Tony’s. It’s wide open, filled with artfully arranged racks of suits of every colour anyone could dream of. There’s a small waiting area, complete with a coffee maker and a bowl of jelly beans that Tony snacks on while he waits. Jonas took Loki into a curtained off area used for fittings, and from where he’s seated, Tony can hear soft chatting and occasionally, a familiar burst of laughter. They’re in there for around an hour - but it’s not like Tony is counting. The curtains shift and Jonas leaves, going to scan the racks for a suit to work with. Then Loki steps out, and Tony almost drops a jelly bean.

 

_ Fuck,  _ he thinks, as his heart skips a beat. Loki’s not even wearing the suit he’ll be buying, but  _ damn _ , does he look good. His hair’s been tied up in a messy bun to avoid being pulled while he was fitted, and the way Jonas has pinned his suit hugs all of Loki’s curves and edges perfectly. “Well?” he asks, almost shyly. “Does it look like it fits alright?”

Tony stares at him. There’s an annoying little flutter in his stomach, which he tries - and fails - to repress. “Uh, yeah, looks great. You decided on a style?” 

Loki dips his head. “I was fond of this three piece. I’m getting it in-”

“-Don’t tell me. Let me guess...green and black? Gold accents?”

Loki throws him a beautiful glare and kicks him in the ankle. “Yes.”

“Uncanny.”

There’s the look of disapproval again. Tony smiles cheekily. 

He’s interrupted by Jonas appearing behind Loki with a silky-looking dark green suit slung over his arm. “So, Tony, this’ll take me a while to complete. A day, maybe more. If you’d like to look around for one you’d like, go for it. I’ll call you when I’m finished.”

Tony heaves himself to his feet and claps Jonas on the shoulder. “Sounds great. Lokes, go change, and I’ll take you out for ice cream or something.”

Loki glances down at his suit. “Right. I will...be right back.”

He disappears back to the change rooms. Jonas and Tony watch him go. 

“Nice boyfriend you’ve got there,” Jonas comments once he’s gone. “Didn’t peg you for someone who would go for a fancy type.”

Tony chokes. “He’s...not my boyfriend,” he says stiffly. Jonas winces in apology. “Oh. Sorry for assuming. He speaks so highly of you, I thought that perhaps you had finally decided to settle down.”

Tony shifts from foot to foot. “Nah. Settling down isn’t exactly for me. I like playing in the field, y’know?”

Jonas shrugs. “Oh, I am well aware you do. But I’m just saying, if you ever wanted to take a chance with someone, something tells me you two would make a good match.”   
Tony rolls his eyes. “The next time I need a matchmaker, I’ll be sure to come to you.” 

He pretends not to notice the hot flush rising to his cheeks at the thought of being in a relationship with Loki.

As far as he’s concerned, it’s just really hot in the building. 

 

***

There’s a charm to Midgard that Loki hadn’t seen in all his long years of life. He can understand now how Thor was banished a stubborn, overly righteous man and came back as caring as he did. As Loki slips out of the suit, he ponders what might have changed if he had been banished along with or instead of Thor. He wouldn’t have found out he was Jotun, at least not then. Odin would’ve never fallen into the Odinsleep, and Loki would’ve never allowed the Jotunn into Asgard to kill them. 

Yes, things would be much different.  _ But maybe they wouldn’t be better.  _ Loki thinks this as he pulls the hair tie from his bun and lets his hair fall around his shoulders in ringlets. (He finds great joy in being able to wear his natural hair whenever he wants. On Asgard, he was instructed to either straighten it, braid it, or grease it down. But here on Midgard, Loki can do whatever the hell he wants with it. So, he’s letting it grow out curly, in a small rebellion against the strict rules of neatness he was forced to follow by his adoptive parents.)

 

Loki gently hangs the borrowed suit on one of the provided hooks and draws back the curtain. Tony’s waiting for him, leaning against a pillar and tapping something into that odd communication device of his. “Hey,” he greets, tucking the thing into his pocket as Loki approaches. “You ready to go?”

Loki dips his head. “Yes, and I have retrieved my belongings.” 

Tony straightens his back. “Cool. Let’s go, then. Jonas will let me know when he’s done and I’ll come pick it up later. C’mon.”

“Are you not finding a suit for yourself?”

 

Tony snorts. “I’ve got enough at home. Today’s all about you, princey.”

He definitely doesn’t catch the glow of Loki’s slight smile at that. 

Not one bit. 

 

***

It’s not until they get home that Tony accepts that there’s something wrong. He’d been ignoring it all day, but after they exit the car and Loki’s fighting with the popcorn machine in the kitchen, he finally allows himself to think about the weird feelings that had been bugging him for a couple days now. “Lokes?” he calls. Loki shouts something unintelligible back - probably a swear in Old Norse. “I’m gonna be upstairs for a bit, okay?’

“Very well!” Loki calls back. “But don’t take that long, or I will start the movie without you!”

“Do you know how to use the remote?”

“...I do not.”

“That’s what I thought. Back in a minute!”

 

There’s growing nausea in Tony’s stomach, but not in the stomach-flu sense. It’s a nasty, prickling feeling that doesn’t go away. “Jarv, perform a full body scan, will you?”   
_ “Right away, sir. Is there anything I should be looking for?” _

“Not in particular.”

JARVIS hums in acknowledgement and a bright light turns on from the wall and rakes up and down Tony’s body. 

_ “I am detecting signs of an increased heart rate and body temperature, however they appear to be lowering as I speak.” _

Huh. Tony frowns. “Weird. Keep monitoring me, okay? Tell me if anything’s out of the ordinary.”

_ “Of course, sir.” _

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Tony doesn’t even jump this time. He turns to see Loki standing in the doorframe of his bathroom, holding a glass bowl of popcorn - shockingly not burnt, which was half-expected after all the cursing Tony heard from the kitchen -, and wearing an uncommonly concerned expression. Tony rubs at his eyes. “Yeah, just felt a little sick.”

Loki gently places the bowl down on the counter. “Would you like me to examine you? I may be able to help.” He rests a hand on Tony’s chest, just to the upper right of the arc reactor. Tony feels every cell in his body bristle in surprise. 

_ “Sir, I have just detected a significant jump in your heart rate,”  _ JARVIS pipes up. 

Loki snaps his head up at the ceiling. 

Tony wants to throw himself into the ocean. 

“Yeah, thanks Jarv. I think I’ll be okay.”

_ “Just doing as instructed, sir. _ ”

Loki pulls his hand away. “What was that about?”

Tony swallows thickly. “I asked JARVIS to monitor my heart. Had this problem a while ago where my reactor was kinda killing me, and I don’t exactly want  _ that  _ to happen again, so…” He’s lying through his teeth, and he’s convinced Loki can see right through him, but if he does, the god says nothing. “I see. Well, if you ever need anything, just ask. Frigga taught me much about healing powers.”

“Frigga?” Tony asks, closing the medicine cabinet behind him.

“My adoptive mother,” Loki replies softly. He picks up the popcorn. 

“Right. You pick a movie to watch?”

“You know I am incapable of using that picture box of yours,” Loki responds with a sigh as they start walking downstairs. Tony grins. “True. I’m thinking maybe Mission Impossible, cuz you liked the Bond movies so much.”

“If it is an impossible mission, then what’s the point of the movie?”

“What? Oh, my god, no- it’s more like, ah forget it. You’ll see.”

 

***

 

Loki falls asleep on Tony’s shoulder sometime after the second movie. He wasn’t aware until the credits rolled and Loki didn’t blurt out whatever pointless question he’d come up with. “Lokes?” he whispers. Loki exhales slightly and snuggles closer into Tony’s side. 

Tony can  _ feel  _ his heart go into overdrive. His arm is totally asleep at this point, but he doesn’t want to risk moving it and waking Loki up. He stretches as far as he can and bats at the blanket flung over the armrest. He manages to hook it on one finger and drags it over to them with a quiet “Yay!”. Clumsily, Tony drapes the blanket over Loki, who gives a little huff in his sleep. Tony smiles softly. 

_ “Sir, your heart rate is growing steadily faster.” _

“Yeah,” Tony says quietly, mostly to himself as he stares at the sleeping god laying against him. He pushes a strand of hair away from Loki’s face. 

The nausea makes a hell of a lot of sense now. “I know. And I think I’ve figured out what’s causing it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone can find the lil mythological easter egg in this chapter I'll buy you a cookie


	6. Perfect Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day of the ball arrives, and Loki tries something new. Pepper finds out who Loki is, and Tony makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how galas work

 

 _There’s a hand in Tony’s hair and a body pressed against his own, and Tony has his arms wrapped around Loki’s neck as he kisses him, desperate and sloppy. Loki’s got that bemused twinkle in his eyes as they pull apart to breathe, giving Tony just enough time to think “Uh oh” before he’s slammed against a wall - woah, when did that get there? - and they’re kissing again, and_ God, _Tony’s never wanted anything more than-_

 

“Tony?”

 

_-he wants this. Loki knows that he’s doing, that’s for sure, as his hands find their way down to Tony’s waist, slowly-_

 

“ _An_ thony.”

 

“Mmrgh…” Tony groans, as someone shakes him awake. He opens bleary eyes to see Loki standing above him, one eyebrow arched. He’s smiling. “Pleasant dreams?”

Tony freezes. Loki. Shit. Loki and _Tony. Shit. Not again._ “Oh, nothing special,” Tony says, voice pitched much higher than it usually is. Loki shrugs. “Alright then. You were sleeping and as that is a rather rare occurence, I decided I would let you rest. Oh, and I made you coffee.”

He waves a hand and suddenly Tony’s holding a mug of the best-smelling coffee he’s ever - well, smelled. “Thanks,” he says, and takes a sip. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Loki beams. “I used magic to conjure it up. I hope that is alright?”

“Fuck yeah. This is delicious.”

Loki moves away from the bed. Wait. He’s in his room. _Loki_ is in Tony’s room. “Uh…” He squints. “Why are you in my room?”

“Because Pepper has just arrived to drop our suits off for the gala, and you are still in bed. Are you aware you drool when you sleep?”

Tony chokes on the obscenely good coffee. “Shit! That’s today!”

“Correct,” Loki says drily. “And I told Pepper that you were simply having a nap, so you had best make yourself look presentable and get down there before she suspects I was lying.”  
Tony flings the covers off and half-slides, half-falls out of the bed. Loki side steps around him, unfazed.

“What time is it?” Tony says frantically, as he pulls on a pair of three-day-old sweatpants. Loki glances at the clock on the wall. “Two thirty-five.”

“Fuck!” Tony cries, and stumbles out of the room.

“Indeed,” Loki responds, and follows him.

 

It’s been a little over a week since Tony figured out what was happening with him and Loki. To put it simply, it sucks. The last time he went through this, it was with Pepper, and _that_ had ended...not great. It’s as if the universe _wants_ him to be put through some form of torture every waking moment. And every moment he’s asleep. Basically, the universe just want Tony to suffer. It threw the perfect guy at Tony, all toned body and stupidly green eyes, with that stupid smile that makes Tony’s heart explode, and that stupidly fast Shakespearean wit that's sharp as the knives Loki wields.

 

Fuck the universe.

 

He’d say fuck Loki, but then that wouldn't be fair. 

 

Seriously, fuck the universe.

 

Pepper’s sitting next to two garment bags on the couch, playing a game on her phone. She looks up and smiles as Tony approaches. “Hey,” he pants. “Sorry for making you wait. And thanks. For picking up the laundry. I know that’s not your job anymore.”

Pepper waves it off. “It’s alright. I knew you’d forget if I didn’t. And besides, I wanted to see what you were wearing.”

“To admire how dashing I’ll look?”

“No, to make sure you don’t turn up looking you got dressed in the dark.”

“Hey!” Tony objects. Pepper and Loki share a knowing grin. “Okay, you two had better not be planning anything.”

Both of them shrug. Tony scowls.

“Anyways,” Pepper says as she stands up. “I’ve got to get to my hair appointment. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” She leans over and presses a quick peck to Tony’s cheek. Tony grins and gives her a half hug as she passes. “Wear something nice!” He shouts at her retreating back. He hears Pepper laugh.

“Are we going to tell her who I truly am?” Loki asks quietly, as Pepper is leaving. Tony looks up at him. “Maybe. I don’t know how she’d handle it.”

Loki nods. “Good point.”

The door clicks shut in the background. Tony can see Loki relax. “When does this gathering begin?”  
“Five,” Tony replies. “So we’ve got like, two and a half hours to get ready.”

“Wonderful,” Loki says primly. “I’ll be off, then. I have much to prepare.”

He snatches up the suit and parades off to his room. Tony sighs as Loki leaves. Why did emotions have to be so difficult?

Tony picks up his own suit and parades off to get ready.

 

***

 

At four o’clock, Loki is still in his room. He’s standing in front of his mirror, angling himself to admired the silky suit Jonas had crafted. It’s black, but when Loki moves and the light hits it, there’s a shimmer of dark green. Gold thread has been embroidered into the cuffs and lapels, and the waistcoat does make him feel like royalty again. It’s possibly the prettiest thing Loki’s seen since he crashed.

But he can’t wear it.

Loki had done some research - thanks to JARVIS - and from what he could tell, a “plus one” to a gala such as this is generally the romantic partner of the invitee. And judging from Tony’s reaction that day in Los Angeles, Tony didn’t want the media seeing him with a man. Understandable, in Loki’s opinion. It wasn’t unheard of on Asgard, but it was rare, and Loki had never told anyone, not even Thor, about his male lovers.

Loki twists the snake ring on his finger. (Which he definitely hadn’t stolen.) Closing his eyes with a sigh, he flicks a hand over his head and lets the familiar burning green light wash over him.

 

***

 

“Loki!” Tony shouts, when the clock reads four thirty and the god is nowhere in sight. “We have to go! You can do the rest of your shit in the car!” He hammers on the door. “I’m coming!” Loki hollers back, but his voice is strangled, and doesn’t sound quite like him. Tony frowns. “You alright in there?”

“I’m fine!” Loki says. There’s the sound of fabric rustling, and then the door opens. Tony steps back to let Loki out, and he almost faints at the sight.

“Hi,” Loki says, timidly.

“What,” Is all Tony can choke out.

Loki’s not wearing the suit. Loki is wearing quite the opposite - Loki is wearing a dress. It’s still obviously Loki, because her voice is almost the same, and the green eyes that peer out at Tony under long, dark lashes are the same, but…

Loki is a woman.

She’s a little bit shorter than Tony’s Loki, and her hair is much longer. It’s been extravagantly braided down her back and is held in place by a golden diadem that glitters with emeralds embedded into the metal. Her hands are clutching a small purse and a pair of gold high heels that match the elegant green ball gown she’s donned, which is an art piece by itself.

It hangs off Loki’s shoulders, showing off her collarbones and the delicate gold necklace that hangs at her throat. It’s long in the back but shorter in the front, and the sleeves are loose and drape down from her arms. Loki’s slight movements causes the fabric to shift and shimmer gold in the light.  “Wow,” Tony stutters. “You...you look great.”

Loki smiles awkwardly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I suspected that perhaps showing up with a man on your arm would cause some unnecessary rumours.”

Right. The media. A factor Tony had not taken into account. That was a first.  
“I suppose it would have,” Tony agrees. He offers Loki his arm. “Shall we?”

Loki’s eyes glitter as she graciously accepts it. “Lead the way, Mr. Stark.”

 

They pile into the waiting car, Loki having to hike her skirts up in order to awkwardly clamber in. “What’s up, Happy?” Tony greets as he climbs in next to Loki. Happy grunts in the front seat. “Not much. Who’s she?”

Tony looks at Loki, who’s anxiously fiddling with a ring on her finger. “My plus one. You haven’t met.”

Happy grunts again and rolls the divider up.

“Classic,” Tony says to his reflection. He leans back against the leather seat. “You got everything?”

Loki smooths down her dress. “If I have forgotten something, I can simply conjure it up.”

“About that…” Tony clears his throat. “Maybe...try to avoid using magic tonight? I don’t want to cause a witch hunt.”

Loki clasps her hands neatly  in her lap. “I know, Anthony. I am not an imbecile.”

“Just making sure.”

 

***

 

The fundraiser is taking place at a massive hall in L.A.. Tony’s been there tons of times before. It’s a squat, marble building with a huge staircase leading up to the doors. Happy pulls up to the curb, where a crowd of reporters and onlookers are cheering on the other guests who are arriving. Loki’s staring out the window in trepidation, brows furrowed. “Hey,” Tony says to her quietly, laying one of his hands over hers. “You’ll be okay. You’ve got this.”

Loki smiles weakly and squares her shoulders as a waiting servant opens the side door. Tony climbs out, buttoning up his white suit as he does. He blows some friendly kisses at the crowd, earning him plenty of gleeful screams. He plasters a grin across his face and turns back to the car, where Loki is waiting. _The reporters are gonna have a field day with this one,_ he thinks giddily. He can hear them chattering into microphones already.

“Mr. Tony Stark has just arrived-”

“-wearing a tasteful white Armani suit-

“-unknown who is accompanying him-”

Tony extends a hand to Loki, and she takes it, cautiously stepping out of the vehicle. Her skirt unfolds beneath her, streaming to the ground like a waterfall. She keeps a hold of Tony’s hand as the reporters go fully nuts.

“-appears to have a new companion-”

“She’s gorgeous! I don’t recognize that dress, but it’s incredible-”

“Miss? Miss, what’s your name?” A brown-haired reporter shoves a microphone unceremoniously into Loki’s face and she jumps back, startled. “Hey!” Tony complains, moving the mic away. “That’s enough! Give the lady some space.”

Loki shoots him a grateful smile. Tony squeezes her hand. They push past the rest of the crowd and ascend the staircase. Tony admires how graceful Loki looks as she walks with him, head held high and back straight. With her dress and circlet, she looks like a queen. The soles of her gold shoes click on the polished stone. “Hey, Lokes?” Tony mutters. “Mm?’ Loki glances over at him. “How’d you do that?” He gestures to her. Loki looks down. “Oh, this?” She shrugs and yep, there’s the Loki Tony knows and loves. “Dear, I’m a shapeshifter. Did you not know?”  
“That’s awesome.”

Loki grins that shark-like grin. “I know.”

 

The hall is already stuffed full of people when they arrive. Tony hands his invitation to the security guards, and instructs Loki through the metal detectors. Tony’s pretty sure they’re gonna go off and the security guards will be pulling knife after knife out of Loki’s dress. Once they get through, Tony picks out three people he recognizes from other events, and the rest are completely new to him. The hall used to be a museum, until whatever-their-names-are bought it for their fancy parties. It’s got a high, sloped ceiling, and too many skylights to count. The floor is marble, which just amplifies the sound of hundreds of people walking around. There’s neat rows of tables and chairs, and a big dance floor next to an orchestra set up. There’s a bar set up along the side, and waiters in crisp black and white suits glide easily through the crowd as though the room was empty, carrying silver trays heaped with appetizers or several pristine crystal glasses of champagne.

 

Making sure Loki’s hand is still on his arm, Tony guides them into the crowd. Loki snatches up a flute of champagne almost instantly. She takes a sip as they walk. “Do you know these people?” She inquires.

Tony scoffs. “Hardly. I know Pepper, and Rhodey, and that’s about it.”

“Not even the event organizer?”

“I’ve met them once. Last year. Prissy, they were. Judged me for being Iron Man.”

Loki laughs. “Oh, I have met so many people like that.”

Tony’s interrupted by a familiar voice calling out to him. “Tony!” He turns to see Pepper standing with Rhodey, looking resplendent in a dark purple dress. Tony waves at her and steers Loki over to them. “Hey, Peps! Rhodey, looking snappy.” Rhodey tugs at his cuffs. “Feeling snappy. Who is this lovely lady?” He says to Loki. Tony opens his mouth to answer, but Loki pushes past him. “Lucy,” she says, extending a delicate hand. “You must be James Rhodes. Anthony has told me _so_ much about you. It’s an honour to meet you at last.” Pepper frowns and looks to Tony as Rhodey strikes up a conversation with Loki. _Where’s Loki?_ She mouths.

Tony curses. Guess she finds out here. “I told you,” he says in a low voice, “You’ll find he’s _exactly_ who he says he is.”

Pepper looks between him and Loki, realization dawning on her. “Oh, my-”

“God,” Loki finishes pleasantly, appearing between the two of them. “Miss Potts. You look lovely.”  
“And you,” Pepper squeaks. Loki beams. “I must say, Tony, this is truly a wonder. Everything is so…” She gestures with a hand, searching for the right word. “...Cute,” she decides. “Cute?” Tony echoes. Loki nods as she sips from her champagne glass. “Oh, yes. Where I’m from, the halls in which we would gather could fit three of these buildings inside just one. And there were massive sculptures made of gold. It was _lovely._ ”

“Sorry, Lucy, where are you from?” Rhodey asks. Tony scowls. “Norway,” Loki responds sweetly. Rhodey looks impressed. “Norway, huh? I would _not_ have guessed that, ‘cuz of your accent.”

Loki shrugs her graceful shoulders. “I get that a lot. Now, Anthony tells me you’re in the army. What’s that like?”

Rhodey lights up. “You wanna hear about it?”

“I would not have asked if I didn’t.”

“Hey, come on, James!” Tony protests. “Stop flirting with my date!”

Rhodey throws him a cocky grin, and then proceeds to completely ignore him as he entertains Loki with stories of his work, and a few distasteful stories about Tony.

“Damn it,” Tony mutters, and downs an entire glass of champagne.  
Pepper clears her throat. “So…” she raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting an explanation. “Ugh, _fine,_ ” Tony gripes. “You want to know. Basically, the guy fell off a space bridge, landed on my beach, we hit it off, I think I’ve caught a bad case of heartache for him, and he’s the god of mischief. Make sense?”

“No, not at all. Go back to that part about heartache?”

Tony groans. “Fuck, Peps, can we do this later? I’m tryin’ to have fun here and this is killing the mood.”

Pepper sighs. “Alright, but you owe me a drink and an actual explanation.”

“Fine. Loki, c’mon, I want to show you some- oh, shit.”

Pepper turns, startled. “What is it?”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s fucking- damnit, Rhodes, this is why I can’t trust you with anything! She’s gone, Peps. and if I don’t find her she’s either gonna blow something up or go on about being royalty up in space Norway.”

“Shit,” Pepper says. “You go to the snack table and I’ll look by the art?”

“That’ll work. If you see her, _don’t let her out of your sight._ ”

“I know, I know. And if I see James, I’ll smack him for you.”

“Much thanks.”

Tony takes off, or more accurately, pushes his way through the throng of people, tripping over about seven people’s feet and elbowing two people in the stomach. He shouts apologies over his shoulder as he continues on his destructive way. _Hurricane Tony,_ he thinks after almost sending a waiter flying, tray of caprese bites and all. He finally catches sight of Loki’s head over a congregation of guests, recognizable by that garish diadem. “Fucking finally,” he mutters, and sets off in her direction. Along the way, he bumps into a blonde woman talking to another lady in a blue dress. “Shit, sorry,” he says. She turns around and looks startled for a moment, before the look is replaced by disdain. “Tony,” she sneers. “Caroline?” Tony asks warily. “Christine,” she snaps.  
“Right. Christine. Look, sweetheart, I’m kinda busy, so how about we continue this great little chat when I’m _not_ pressed for time? Or even better, we don’t continue it at all.”

Christine crosses her arms. “Looking for someone?”

“What’s it to you?”  
“Oh, nothing, I’m just wondering what poor girl you’ve decided to screw over this time.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Still bent out of shape about that, are we? For god’s sake, woman, this is literally a life or death situation here. You know,” He leans towards her and continues in a low voice. “Superhero shit.”

Okay, so not exactly the truth, but it makes Christine’s eyes go big and she moves out of the way. “Is there someone dangerous here? Should I cause a distraction?”

“Fuck, no, don’t do that. In fact, don’t say _anything_ about what I just said. Pretend you never saw me. I was never here.” With that, he ducks out of sight.

“Asshole!” He hears Christine shout at him, but the ferocity is lost in the loud chatter of the crowded ballroom.

 

Tony shoves past the last group of people blocking him from Loki, and stops in his tracks. Loki’s surrounded by a circle of party goers, who are all watching her, enraptured, as she loudly recounts a story about what Tony assumes to be a watered-down version of one of the many stupid decisions Thor made. (Seriously, just based on the shit Loki’s told him, Thor sounds like a dumbass.)

Loki’s gesturing another glass of champagne around wildly, and the crowd is laughing. “Tony!” She cries out, and practically drapes herself across Tony’s body. “There you are! Everybody, this is Tony! He’s my date!” She throws that last bit over her shoulder at her admirers. “Jesus, Lokes, are you drunk?” Tony hisses into her ear. Loki snorts. “Please, with this weak Midgardian alcohol? No. These people are _so_ easy to please.”

Tony smirks into her hair. (It smells like peppermint.) Loki straightens up and dives right back into her drunken charade.

“Tony, I was jus’ telling these guy about that time with my brother. Remember? You were there, and, like, he was _soooo_ protective of me,” She giggles at this, and Tony has to refrain from laughing. “Thor was so sure Tony was gonna hurt me, or somethin’.” She sends Tony a rather sexual wink and Tony flushes and looks away, fixating instead on the band that’s setting up across the hall. He tunes out the rest of Loki’s made up story, and is only dragged back in when Loki is clinging to his arm. “Hey, th’ band’s playing. Let’s go dance!” She waves goodbye to her audience and practically pulls Tony’s arm out of its socket as she drags him toward the dance floor. “Ouch, Lokes. Cool it.” Loki slows down. “My apologies. I have gotten a bit out of hand.”

“No kidding,” Tony says. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a great actor?”

Loki hums. “I am the god of lies, Anthony. I was born to lie. And isn’t that what acting is? Lying about who you are?”

“Good point.”

 

They join the clusters of couples filing onto the dance floor, and Tony tries to overlook the hammering in his ears. They take a place in the middle of the floor. Loki rests one hand on Tony’s shoulder and takes the other in her own. Feeling as though he’s in a trance, Tony places his other hand on Loki’s waist. An image flashes in his mind, an instant replay of the dream he woke up to that morning. He clears it with a frown and focuses on Loki, who is intently watching as the band starts to play. They sway gracefully at first before making their way across the dance floor. When everybody is moving, a wave of green light swirls over Loki’s body. Tony nearly shouts in surprise, but stops himself just in time. Loki’s in front of him now, _his_ Loki, the raven haired god with the emerald eyes. “Finally,” he purrs. “I was hoping to spend a little bit of time in this suit tonight.”

Tony feels a lot slower with Loki in his arms now. “Did they see that?” He murmurs. Loki shakes his head. “No, you are the only one who can see me like this. I just thought that after all the fuss you went through for this suit, you’d like to see me wearing it.”

He spins out, and when he comes back in he’s pressed up against Tony, their fingers interlocking. “You really do look good in it,” Tony says. It comes out softer than he would have liked. Loki chuckles lightly and steps back into their original position. “And you look truly dashing in yours, Anthony. You could say it’s…” He leans in. “...Fit for a prince.”

Tony swears his heart stops. He thinks about just passing out right there, because then hey, he wouldn’t have to think up a response. Thankfully, Rhodey swoops in out of nowhere and saves the day. “Tony, would you mind if I stole Lucy for a dance?”

“Sure,” Tony says weakly. “Just bring her back this time.”

Loki smiles at him as the green light washes over him again, replacing that suit with the green gown. She sweeps off to dance with Rhodey, and Tony’s left standing alone on the checkered floor. That doesn’t last long, because before long he’s dancing with a woman named Dana, and then another one who he _thinks_ is named Amelia, but could also have been Mia, because Tony was busy staring at Loki while they talked. He shares a dance with Pepper, and it’s nice. Familiar. They sway gently, Pepper’s head on Tony’s shoulder, Tony holding her waist. “I miss this sometimes,” she says quietly. “Us. I miss us.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs. “But we both know it wouldn’t have worked out. I can’t lose you, Pep.”  
“I know,” Pepper whispers. “Let’s just enjoy this moment, alright?”

“Alright.”

 

***

 

The sun is gone by the time the party begins to wind down. Tony’s standing out on the balcony, with Pepper at his side. There’s a gentle breeze blowing, cold enough to make Tony shiver. The city below is still alive, cars rushing past and honking at each other belligerently. The skyscrapers light up the night sky better than the stars do. “What’s going on with you and Loki?” Pepper asks quietly. Tony folds his arms on top of the railing. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that earlier you mentioned having heartache. And you’ve been staring at him - her? All night.”

Tony rubs his eyes. “Fuck, Peps, I don’t even know. Loki’s...different. I don’t know how I feel. Sure, he’s everything I could want in a guy - or girl, for that matter, but…”

“But?”

Tony drops his head onto his arms. “It’s confusing, Peps. I can’t figure it out.”

Pepper’s silent for a moment. “I think you need to try.”

“I _have_ been trying.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been avoiding it. Embrace it, and work with it from there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony says, muffled by his arms.

“Suck it up, Tony. You’ve got feelings for Loki. Admit that to yourself instead of trying to ignore it. If you don’t come to terms with this, it’ll just grow until it pains you to be around him.” Her voice softens. “That’s what went wrong with us. We waited too long.”

Tony raises his head and stares out at the city skyline. “Yeah, true, but Loki’s...well, Loki is _Loki._ I’m pretty sure anyone who does more than hug him either gets gutted or turned into a small animal.”

“So he really is the god of mischief?”  
“Yep. And the god of knives, sarcasm, and general snark. And weird clothing choices.” He pauses. “You don’t sound all that surprised.”

Pepper purses her lips. “Honestly? I’ve seen some weird crap, Tony. It takes a _lot_ to phase me these days.”

“Fair enough.”

Pepper leans against the railing and they stand in silence, listening to the wind whistle through the buildings. The cold grows more intense and starts to bite at Tony’s skin through his suit. Pepper’s shivering in her sleeveless dress. Without thinking, Tony unbuttons his suit jacket and drapes it around her shoulders. He tries not to feel hurt when she flinches slightly at the gesture.

They stand outside together for a while longer, until Pepper hands Tony his jacket back. “I’m going to go say my goodbyes and retire for the night,” she murmurs. Tony folds his jacket over an arm and brushes a kiss against Pepper’s cheek. “See you later, Peps.”

Pepper presses her lips to Tony’s temple. “Make the right decision about Loki, okay? You’d be good together.” With that, she glides back through the doors, and Tony turns back out to the cityscape. A few minutes later, he hears the recognizable sound of magic being shed and a pair of dress shoes clicking against tile. Tony says nothing as Loki appears at his side, back in his male form. His hair has come out of the half-braid from earlier. Tony spots the battered leather band that held it together tied round Loki’s wrist, a streak of untidiness against the pristine condition of his suit. “Pepper told me I could find you out here,” he says quietly. Tony mentally facepalms. Of course Pepper wants him to do this now. “I needed some air,” he answers. “Hey, I was wondering. Did you have someone special back on Asgard? A girlfriend? Wife? Boyfriend?”

A flash of several different and convoluting emotions dance across Loki’s features. Tony squints. Rage, love, and...grief? Something like that.

“No,” Loki replies sharply. “No. There was no one on Asgard.” His voice grows sad and Tony suspects Loki isn’t telling the truth, but he won’t push it.

Tony clears his throat. “Okay. That’s, uh. That’s good to know.”

Loki turns his head. “Why do you ask?”

Tony stares up at him. Shit. “Uh, no reason.”  
“Tony.” Loki takes a step towards him and inclines his head. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Tony gulps. Nope. He can’t do this. Pepper was wrong. Accepting it did not help. “I, uh. Was just thinking. Maybe I should, like, set you up with someone. I have...connections...with some people.”

Loki gives him one of his signature eye rolls. “Anthony, honestly. I have no time for a petty one night relationship with one of your…”connections”. I have other matters I must worry about.”

Tony considers just pitching himself off the balcony right then. He opens his mouth to say more, but no words come. Instead he finds himself held captive in Loki’s gaze, unable to speak. Unable to think, apparently, because all of a sudden he lurches forward, one hand wrapping around the back of Loki’s neck and pulling him down, and then they’re kissing, and Tony’s screaming at himself to stop, but he doesn’t, because Loki’s cupping Tony’s face with his hands, and it’s quite literally a dream come true.

And then Loki pushes Tony off of him, angrily, and Tony has just enough time to think _I fucked up_ before there’s a sharp stinging sensation across his cheek and Loki pulls his hand away. Tony touches his face lightly, shocked.  
He looks back to Loki, who’s standing in front of him, and his eyes are wide and there are actual tears brimming in his eyes. “Fuck,” he stammers, and the tears start to fall. It’s the first time Tony hears Loki actually curse in English. “Fuck, Anthony. I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t - I wasn’t - I can’t...I can’t do this. I can’t betray her like this.”

Tony’s heart drops to the floor. “Her?” he demands. Loki pales, if that’s possible. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and then he’s gone, leaving Tony alone, on a balcony, staring at the empty space where Loki had just stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned how gay I am for Lady Loki bc wow


	7. World of Trouble On My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony searches for Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note: Chapter 8 is real long and is therefore taking me a lot longer to write, so this chapter is very short compared to the other ones. It's just to keep y'all occupied while I finish #8.

 

Time passes agonizingly slowly when the world has gone to shit. Someone’s hit the “slow motion” button on Tony’s life, and now every second feels like an eternity. Four days since the balcony seem more like four weeks. One week passes and it feels like a month. He hadn’t realized how used to seeing Loki lounging around the house he was until the god was gone. It really set in that Loki wasn’t coming back when Tony had gotten home that night and ran up to Loki’s bedroom to find it hopelessly bare - no books, no weapons, only the simple furnishings Tony had put in himself. There’s no sign that anyone had even set foot in the room.

Tony hates it. He hates the quiet, he hates waking up late in the afternoon again, he hates not having anyone to debate about coffee versus tea with while in the kitchen. He  _ misses  _ Loki, to the point where thinking of him makes Tony’s heart ache. Fuck, he’d fallen hard. And he’d fucked everything up enough that he’d probably never see Loki again.    
  


He tries to forget about it. Starts bringing people home again. There’s a girl with bright purple hair he meets at a club. She likes coffee, and the next morning they talk about the probability of pocket dimensions and alternate universe before she leaves. Another girl he meets at some party, who’s got a tattoo up the length of her spine. She’s gone before Tony even wakes up. A guy with black hair and friendly brown eyes. He’s quiet, and his name’s David. He leaves too. All of them do. That’s okay, though, because Tony wouldn’t want them to stay anyways. 

He stops bringing people home because he realizes that the only person who’s gonna fill the Loki-sized hole in his heart is Loki. 

So he starts drinking. Again. Pepper finds him sobbing on the floor of his workshop and guesses that something’s happened. Tony clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so she doesn’t ask. She takes the bottle and make sure JARVIS locks the alcohol away with a password she doesn’t share with Tony. 

Rhodey doesn’t know the full story, but Pepper must have told him a version of it, because he shows up on Tony’s porch with a pail of ice cream and flowers as if they’re in a teen rom com. It’s the first time Tony shows any sign of a smile since Loki left. They watch B-rated movies and eat ice cream until both of them fall asleep. 

 

The second week, Tony gets mad. He shouts at the stars, cursing them for ever dropping Loki onto his property in the first place. He blasts AC/DC in his lab, loud enough it tunes out even JARVIS, and blows shit up with his repulsors. He breaks things and cries until he’s out of tears and his hands are raw and cut from broken glass. 

 

None of it helps. Not really. 

 

So he tries to fix it. “Jarv, I need your help.” 

JARVIS sounds almost relieved to hear Tony speak in a tone that’s  _ not  _ pissed off, sullen, or sad.  _ “How may I assist you, sir?”  _

“I need you to run facial recognition worldwide on this image.”

He pulls up one of the selfies Loki had taken on his phone all those weeks ago. 

_ “Mr. Loki, sir?”  _

“That’s the one.”

_ “I will do my best.”  _

 

And so it goes. Of course, Tony takes into account Loki can probably look like anyone he wants to, and therefore asking JARVIS to try and find him is pointless, but it’s the only thing that Tony can think of. And it helps. Sort of. 

Tony goes to bed at a reasonable time now, mainly because he knows Loki would’ve scolded him for staying up late. He lays in bed, sometimes sending thoughts out to Loki in the hopes that he’s telepathic and can hear him.  _ I’m sorry,  _ he usually thinks. Or  _ I miss you.  _ Or  _ please come home.  _

 

Because that’s what Tony’s mansion had become to Loki, right? Home. The one place he knows he can go. 

 

Tony holds onto that hope. That Loki will return. And if -  _ when  _ \- he does, Tony’s gonna hug him and plead with him to never leave again. 

And also probably apologize Loki’s ears off. 

 

There isn’t a moment that passes when Tony doesn’t regret kissing Loki. It was a mistake and caused a massive rupture in their friendship. It still hurts to think about. But it’s also confusing, because for a moment, Loki seemed to be enjoying it. And when he slapped Tony, the expression on his face wasn’t angry, it was mortified. He felt  _ bad  _ about hitting him. Tony didn’t blame him for hitting him - it was a natural reaction to a sudden move like Tony had pulled. But Loki was crying. Tony hadn’t seen him that vulnerable since he’d shared his story. Plus, there was the woman Loki had tearfully mentioned. A girlfriend? Wife, maybe? Someone from Loki’s past, certainly. Someone he loved. Whoever she was to Loki, he felt that sharing a kiss with Tony was “betraying” her. That particular phrase had really struck a chord with Tony. 

 

All that time spent with Loki, and he was still filled with mysteries. 

 

Pepper’s visiting again. Not on official business, just as friends. They’re eating take out on the couch, and Pepper, bless her soul, is trying to keep the mood light by sharing stories of a friend of hers, who just had a baby, and the dog she’s planning on adopting. Tony smiles at the funny parts, and makes a couple quips when they’re needed. He falls silent for the most part, though. Eventually Pepper puts her take out box down and sighs. “Tony, I want to help you. But you have to help  _ me  _ understand what happened. I haven’t seen Loki in ages, so I’m assuming something happened at the gala.” Tony flinches and Pepper knows she’s got it right. “Can you tell me?” 

Tony doesn’t answer. He stares at his feet morosely. “Tony?” Pepper pries gently. 

“I kissed him,” Tony chokes out. “Fuck, Peps, I freaked out and I fucking  _ kissed  _ him. He slapped me and then started crying and left.” Pepper’s lips part. “Oh, Tony...I’m so sorry.” Tony blinks back tears. “Yeah, whatever. I fucked up. He wasn’t mad, at least I don’t  _ think  _ he was mad, I think he was…” He stops, trying to find the right word. “...mourning.”

“Mourning?”

Tony nods. “Yeah, he mentioned a woman. Not by name, but still. I think he lost someone.”

Pepper takes his hand in her own. “I’m glad you told me. We can work this out. I’m sure he’ll come back.”

Tony smiles weakly. “You think?”

“I do. He cares for you, Tony. You’re his friend. He trusts you, and from the times I’ve met him, his trust means something special.”

“Thanks, Peps.”

Pepper squeezes his hand. 

“You, uh...wanna watch terrible movies and laugh at the bad acting until both of us pass out?” Tony asks, and  _ fuck,  _ it feels good to joke again. 

“More than anything else,” Pepper responds. 

***

 

“So basically what I’m saying is, you can’t be a frost giant, because you’re too hot.”

 

“Oh my god,  _ shut up. _ ”

 

“No. Never.”

 

Loki socks Tony in the arm, trying and failing to repress a dorky grin. “You’re the worst, Anthony.” 

Tony kisses Loki’s cheek. “I know, but you’re still with me so I guess I’m not too bad.”

“No, I’m the worst too.”

“Good point.”

 

Silence. 

 

“Hey, Tony?”

 

“What’s up?”

 

Loki kisses him gently. “I love you.”

_ “Love you too, Lokes.” _

 

Tony opens his eyes to find himself laying face down on his workbench. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, yawning widely. The sky outside is overcast and watery sunlight is filtering through the windows. A piece of paper drifts to the ground, knocked off the table by Tony’s arm. The holoscreens are cycling through different street cameras, security cameras, and any other devices that JARVIS can hack into and run facial recognition from. No luck so far. Just a lot of people watching. 

He heaves a sigh and rises from his seat to go refill his coffee mug. As he’s waiting for the coffee to brew, one of the holoscreens beeps loudly and JARVIS speaks up over the speakers.  _ “Sir, I have found a match.” _

Tony’s heart skips a beat. He sprints back to his desk, tripping over six random things in the process, and skids to a halt in front of the desk. Clicking anxiously on the frozen image to zoom in, he finds a semi-blurry photo of a dark-haired man in a black hoodie. It’s hard to see his face at first but when he presses play on the footage, the man looks directly at the camera. Time slows to a halt. Tony can hear the blood pounding in his head as he locks eyes with Loki through the screen. “J, where is this?” Tony whispers, not breaking his staring contest with the image. 

_ “New York, sir. On the same street as Stark Tower.”  _

“Fire up the suit. I’m bringing him home.”

 

***

 

The flight to New York takes too long, in Tony’s opinion. Usually he loves being up above the clouds, soaring over the cities. But right now, all he wants is to arrive at the half-constructed Stark Tower and face Loki. There’s a growing seed of anxiety settling in Tony’s stomach as he grows closer and at least five different possible scenarios playing in his mind. Number one, Loki’s gone by time Tony gets there. Number two, Loki is furious when Tony arrives and throws him off the top of the tower. Number three, Loki’s upset and Tony comforts him. Four, Loki isn’t mad, but refuses to go with Tony, and that’s the last time they see each other. Five, Nothing particularly exciting happens, but Loki forgives Tony. 

Whichever one it turns out to be, Tony feels sick just thinking about it. 

  
  


The tower looks like a phantom in the dark. There’s still construction equipment everywhere, and the scaffolding sticks out like the bare bones of a skeleton. The electricity isn’t running yet so the building stands there, empty, dark, and unsettlingly silent in the otherwise alive city. 

_ “Sir, the security camera that captured Mr. Loki is located at the next right turn.” _

“Yep, thanks Jarv, I got it from here.” Tony passes the suggested turn and heads straight for the tower, flying to the roof. He scans the surface, the targeting system searching for any signs of life atop the building. It locks onto a figure sitting with their legs swinging casually over the side of the roof. Tony swallows the lump in his throat and slowly descends to land behind Loki. His boots hit the gravel with a  _ crunch.  _

“I was wondering when you would find me,” Loki hums. 

Tony flips open the faceplate. “Were you really hiding?”

There’s a slight chuckle. “No, I suppose not.”

Tony strides forward and joins Loki on the edge of the building. “I’m sorry,” Tony says quietly, once he’s seated. Loki turns slightly to face him. “For what? Kissing me? Anthony, please. You have no need to apologize.”

Relief washes over Tony. “You’re not pissed?”

Loki shakes his head. “Why would I be? It was I who overreacted. Feelings got the better of both of us.”

“About that…” Tony begins.

“You want to know to whom I was referring to, don’t you?” Loki asks. Tony smiles awkwardly. “A little. But you don’t have to tell me! I don’t want to pressure you into spilling your deepest, darkest secrets.”

Loki smiles sadly. “No, it is alright. I believe talking to someone about it after all these years may help.”

“What was her name?” Tony asks quietly. 

The light in Loki’s eyes is sad, as if memories are dancing through his mind. “Sigyn,” he replies. His voice is soft, filled with love and compassion and pain, and Tony knows that this Sigyn truly owned Loki’s heart. “Sigyn,” he repeats. “That’s...a very pretty name. You...want to tell me about her?”

Loki sighs. “Sadly, I cannot. Our story is one that is too complex to speak.”

Tony’s shoulders sag. “Oh. That’s alright, then.”

“I cannot tell you,” Loki continues, “But I can show you. If you would permit me to use my magic on you.”

Tony’s attention snaps right back to Loki. “How?”

Loki rolls up his sleeves and flexes his hands. “I can share memories. See memories. I have not used this power in years, but…” He fixes Tony with a sweet, mournful expression. “...I would be willing to use it on you.”

Tony’s eyes start to water.  _ No,  _ he tells himself.  _ You are  _ not  _ going to cry. This is a terrible time to cry. _

“Absolutely,” he says, strangled. “Will it hurt?”

Loki shakes his head. “No. The power itself is harmless. But what you will witness...it is a pain too terrible to describe.”

“That sounds...cheerful…Okay.” He shakes himself out and fully turns toward Loki. “Hit me.”

Loki swings his legs back over the side and kneels in front of Tony. “Understand that what I am about to share with you is only known to me. Nobody, not even Thor, or Frigga, have heard the full story. This is the peak of my trust in you. You must tell no one. Am I clear?”

Tony nods. “As crystal. Your story is safe with me.”

_ Fuck,  _ he thinks.  _ I’m really in for it now. _

“Alright,” Loki says. He closes his eyes and cups Tony’s face with his hands, pressing gently at his temples with the tips of his fingers. “My story begins over five hundred years ago, at a ball not unlike the one I ran from.” 

Tony starts to sink into a deep sleep-like trance, as though something is pulling him down, making him feel heavy. The last thing he hears is Loki’s voice, and then the light fades from the world and he is alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmmm the next chapter is gonna be a blast


	8. Sigyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through Loki's magic, Tony learns about his wife, Sigyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter is hella long (it spanned 11 pages in Google Docs), and doesn't have much Loki/Tony content. I just really wanted to write about Sigyn & their kids, bc HECK I love her. 
> 
> Also, introduction to a couple characters who may or may not be appearing in future chapters...

 

“Freya, you’re being ridiculous! Get back here!”

The voice, full of laughter, rings out through the darkness. Tony opens his eyes to see a young woman, twenty at the most, run past him, giggling. She’s slender and fair skinned, wearing a flowing golden gown Tony recognizes as the garb of an Asgardian. Her hair is caramel-brown, pinned against her head in complex braids. Another girl, around the same age, runs after her, hiking up the skirt of her dress. She’s the one that spoke. Pretty. Delicate. Her skin has a healthy glow to it, and her hair is as golden as the sun, cascading around her shoulders like a blanket. Her eyes are bright blue, and twinkle with mirth. There’s a small mole just under her right eye. The dress she wears is plain in comparison to her friend’s, but still beautiful. It’s light blue, and the material is lightweight, floating around her like water. There are no sleeves, and her biceps are encircled with gold bands. She catches up with her friend, laughing. They’re standing in a garden, which appears to go on forever, an endless stretch of rose bushes and neatly trimmed hedges. “Don’t ever,” she pants, “Do that again.” Freya, the girl in the gold gown, grins. “A little exercise is good for you, Sigyn. And besides, I want to be first in line to see the prince!”

Sigyn rolls her eyes. “Freya, by the norns, are you _still_ lusting after Prince Thor?”

“Yes, and it would do you good to not insult the future queen of Asgard.”

Sigyn snorts. “Really, Freya?”

Freya smiles wryly. “I’m kidding, Sigs. I just want to dance with him. Perhaps become friends. Besides, this would be the perfect opportunity for your talents to be noticed!”

Sigyn crosses her arms. “Freya, you know my mom doesn’t want me getting involved with the royal family. Just because she’s their tailor doesn’t mean I’m going be the next one.”

Freya shrugs. “Suit yourself. C’mon, let’s go in. We don’t want to make Bee wait.”

“She’s back?” Sigyn says, startled. Freya nods, grinning. “Got back yesterday. Haven’t seen her yet, but she said she had good news in her letter.”

They both fix each other up, adjusting the other’s dress, brushing stray hair out of their face. Sigyn fans her face to try and expel some of the redness caused by her impromptu marathon.

 

The scenery changes. They’re standing inside an enormous banquet hall, so tall that the ceiling seems to disappear and so wide the other side is lost to Tony’s view. Sigyn and Freya are pushing through the already crowded hall, clearly searching for someone. Freya must spot her, because she grabs Sigyn by the hand and drags her through the crowd. Another young woman, this one dark skinned and wearing a white outfit that isn’t quite a dress, it’s more like ceremonial armoured robes. Her dark brown hair is piled into a bun atop her head with a single braid hanging down her back. “Freya! Sigyn!” She calls, bounding towards them. Sigyn pulls her into an embrace. “Brunnhilde! We missed you! How was it?”

The newcomer, Brunnhilde, grins. “Oh, it was incredible! And guess what?”

“What?” Freya and Sigyn say in unison. “I got in!” Brunnhilde crows.

Freya’s jaw drops. “Really? That’s amazing!”

Brunnhilde bounces on her toes. “I’m officially in the pool to become a Valkyrie! I’ll be leaving for training camp next month.”

Sigyn hugs her again. “I’m so proud of you! You’re going to be the fiercest warrior Asgard has ever seen.”

Brunnhilde blushes. “Aw, Sigs. I’m flattered.”

Sigyn smiles warmly.

“So!” Brunnhilde throws her arms around her friends’ waists. “Frey, you get around to marrying the prince while I was away?”

Freya kicks her in the ankle. “Very funny, Bee. And no. But I _am_ dancing with him tonight.”

Brunnhilde and Sigyn share a bemused look. “Right. Well, since I’m going to be presented tonight, I get first dibs on my spot for the royal entrance.”  
“That happens?”   
“No,” Brunnhilde admits.”But I’m gonna make it. You coming?”

The trio makes their way to a huge set of heavy oak doors, carved with a depiction of a massive tree. Sigyn marvels up at it. “I can’t believe we’re meeting the royal family,” Freya whispers in Sigyn’s ear. Sigyn chuckles. “Don’t you know them already?”

“That’s true. I suppose I should say _you’re_ meeting them. They’ll love you! ‘Cept maybe the younger prince. I don’t think he loves anything.”

Brunnhilde speaks up, exasperated. “Freya, are you seriously still holding a grudge against him because he snapped at you that one time like, two years ago?”

Freya scowls. “I wasn’t even doing anything! He’s just mean.”

“From what I recall,” Brunnhilde says dryly, “You had pushed away all his books so you could sit next to Prince Thor.”

Freya lets out an indignant huff. Sigyn pats her on the back sympathetically.

 

The trio stands amongst a gathering of Asgardians in front of the door, forming a semi-circle around the staircase. The crowd is excitedly whispering to one another, indistinct snippets of conversations blurring together in a mass of faces and meaningless words. A heavy hush falls over all of them as a loud instrument - a horn of some sort - blares loudly. A soldier announces the arrival of the king and queen, and the heavy doors open surprisingly smoothly. Sigyn stands on her tiptoes to see over Brunnhilde’s head as a man and woman begin to descend the staircase. Tony wills himself to move closer in order to get a better look. The crowd kneels as Odin, who Tony recognizes by his eyepatch and the demeanor of a king, stops at the bottom. He’s dressed in the most extravagant armour Tony has ever seen, complete with a bear pelt across his shoulders. His wife, Frigga, is like an angel standing next to him. While Odin radiates power and authority, Frigga gives off a gentle glow of love and family. “My loyal subjects,” Odin booms. His voice bounces off the walls, amplifying it. Tony wonders if they’ve been enchanted for that exact purpose. “I have invited you all here today to celebrate the coming of age of my two sons. One day, one will take my place upon the throne. But tonight, we celebrate their cunning wit, superior strength, and the knowledge that both of them will make a fine king. Please help me welcome my eldest, Prince Thor, wielder of Mjolnir, God of Thunder.”

He waves toward the ceiling and the crowd cheers as a thunderstorm brews outside. There’s a massive CRACK, and a lightning bolt shatters the roof. Frigga, from her place at Odin’s side, sighs and waves a hand. The chunks of ceiling disappear. The bolt of lighting strikes the ground. Sigyn’s hair stands on end, and Brunnhilde’s looks like it might burst from its bun. When the blinding light clears, there’s a young man standing on the steps, arm outstretched to the sky. He’s blonde and muscular, dressed in a suit of armour similar to his father’s. A red cape flaps in the dying wind from his storm. Grinning, Thor lowers his hammer, basking in the roars from the crowd. Sigyn spots Freya positively glowing in his presence. Thor joins his parents as Odin speaks again. “And my youngest son, master of mischief, God of Lies, Prince Loki.”

The cheering grows again, but stops abruptly when the doors at the entrance slam open with a force much too great to be wind. The crowd mutters in concern. On the stairs, Frigga’s smiling knowingly. Dark clouds slither in from the doors like snakes, obscuring the floor from view. Guests shriek and try to jump away as the smoke slinks through them. Sigyn watches in fascination as the smoke - green, in colour - writhes around her and then spirals toward the stairs, swirling until it forms a vaguely humanoid shape. It twists tighter and tighter until suddenly it vapourizes, leaving a young man who could only be Loki in its place. His black hair is much shorter, not even touching his shoulders yet. The helm he wears resembles his diadem from the ball, but has two short horns protruding from it. There’s a fancy fur cloak over his shoulders, and his tunic is elaborately embroidered. His slim hands are adorned in rings of all different colours and metals, and his green eyes survey the crowd like a hawk. Thor nudges him and whispers something into his ear. Loki elbows him, smiling good naturedly. “Let the festivities begin!” Thor shouts, earning him a glare from his mother. Loki smirks.

 

The scene shifts. People are dancing, elegantly swirling across the floor. Dresses flare out and cloaks flutter through the air as soft string music ripples through the hall. Sigyn watches from the outskirts as Freya twirls around with her partner. Brunnhilde has disappeared somewhere, probably to find her new sisters-in-arms. The royal family is seated at a long wooden table. Except for Thor, who is jovially swinging his friend, Lady Sif, around. She doesn’t look at all pleased. The youngest prince, Loki, sits at the table, his dark robes and black hair making him look rather out of place in the room of bright colours. Sort of like a thundercloud in an otherwise sunny sky. Sigyn cocks her head to one side. She didn’t see Loki much around the castle when she visited with her mother, Astra. He was a bit of an enigma to the whole kingdom. A silent prince. A magic-maker. He looks up suddenly, catching Sigyn’s eye with his intense green glare. She shivers and looks away, fixating instead on his brother, who has allowed Sif to leave - she’s gone to stand on the sidelines, glowering at anyone who advances - and is now approaching Freya. She smiles as Thor offers her friend his hand, and Freya’s smile is bright enough to light up the city. Cautiously, she glances back to the table, and is shocked to see Loki’s spot empty. “You know,” a soft voice says behind her, “I cannot understand how a maiden as pretty as you is standing by her lonesome.”

Sigyn spins around to see the young prince standing there, eyes half narrowed and hands clasped behind his back. “Oh!” She squeaks, then turns pink. “Thank you, your highness. I am simply waiting for my friend.”

Loki follows her gaze to Freya and Thor. “Ah, yes. Miss Freya. I remember her. She has taken quite a fancy to my brother, as most people do.”

Sigyn dips her head awkwardly, not meeting his eyes.

“But not you,” Loki muses. “I must say, I am glad. I would hate such a pretty young thing to be seduced by my fool of a big brother. What is your name?”

“Sigyn,” Sigyn says meekly. Her face is as red as the wine at the banquet table. “Sigyn,” Loki echoes. “Will you allow me the honour of accompanying you to the dance floor?” He extends a hand, which Sigyn accepts. Her hands are shaking. “I don’t bite,” Loki assures her as he leads her away. Tony watches as the pair begins to sway. Slowly, Sigyn grows to be more comfortable with the prince, and he with her. They spend several dances together, laughing and talking. Across the way, Brunnhilde and Freya watch open-mouthed as the most timid of all of them dances and flirts with the god of mischief.

 

When the party begins to dwindle down, Loki escorts Sigyn down to where the boats await. The light has faded from the sky, and the path is lit up by floating lights. “Wait,” he says, just as she is about to climb aboard. “I...had fun tonight, with you.”

Sigyn tugs at her dress. “I did too, your majesty.”  
“Loki,” Loki says, flicking his hand. “Please, just call me Loki.”

“Very well...Loki,” Sigyn says. Loki breaks into a grin. “I will see you again, yes?”

Sigyn looks down. “I do not know. Perhaps, if I accompany my mother one day. She is the lead tailor in the castle. Astra.”

“Oh, yes. I know her. I hope to see you soon, Sigyn.”

He guides Sigyn into the boat. The scene changes again.

 

This time, it’s Loki, walking alone down a dark corridor. His ceremonial garb is gone, replaced by one of his casual robes. His footsteps make almost no sound against the marble tiles. He holds a book under one arm, freshly plucked from the shelves of the royal library. There’s loud stomping behind him and Loki stops, sighs heavily, and turns just in time to get clapped on the shoulder by Thor. “Brother!” he greets. “I have found you!”

“No, really,” Loki deadpans, shaking off Thor’s hand. “I was intending on retiring for the night. Do you require something of me?”

Thor guffaws. “Of course not! I just wanted to congratulate you.”

Loki cocks his head. “For…?”

“Finding a suitor! That girl you were dancing with?” He says it slowly, as though Loki is a particularly stupid horse Thor is trying to tame. Loki rolls his eyes. “Thor, why does it matter to you?”

“My brother has found a partner! It matters!” He envelopes Loki in a tight hug. “Ouch,” Loki wheezes, tapping Thor’s side. “Thor, I cannot breathe.”

“Oh. I apologize.” He releases Loki and the younger of the two rubs at his ribs. “You are certainly getting stronger,” Loki coughs.

“Well, I am no longer a child, so yes, I would assume!”

Loki starts walking again. “Thor, honestly. You make it sound as if we were three before today. We are the same as we were yesterday.”

Thor speeds up to keep in time with Loki’s quick strides. “Yes, but now we are both _officially_ heirs to the throne.”

Loki snorts. “You mean _you_ are.”

Thor’s grin shrinks. “Brother, what do you mean?”

Loki fixes the collar of his robe. “Thor. You know better than anyone it will be you who becomes king after father. It has been that way since our birth. I am destined to forever stand by your side, not sit in a throne with you at mine.”

“Do not say that, brother. You would be a brilliant king.”

Loki looks at Thor, a soft smile on his lips. “Has it occured to you that perhaps I do not wish to be king?”

Thor’s eyes widen. “What?”  
Loki shrugs. “I believe that there are better ways for me to serve my people than from a throne. I can heal them, protect them with seidr. That is what I am best at, after all.”

Thor stops walking. “You truly do not want the throne.”

Loki shakes his head. “No, Thor. You will be a good king, when the time is right. Until then, I will fight by your side as your brother. As your equal.”

Thor laughs. “Loki, you must know that if I become king, I would not think less of you. You will always be my equal, in my eyes.”

Loki smiles wryly. “I am pleased to hear that. Please excuse me, brother. I have much research to complete.”

Thor cups one side of Loki’s neck with his hand. “Of course. Go. I will see you tomorrow. And maybe even your new suitor.”

Loki scowls and swiftly ducks down another corridor.

“I will meet her eventually!” Thor calls after him.

Loki snarls back a curse word Tony can’t translate.

 

The scene shifts, and this time it appears to have jumped forwards in time quite a lot. Loki is walking through the gardens with Sigyn, summoning small butterflies made of light out of his fingers. “They’re not too elaborate just yet,” he says, sounding apologetic. “But I am working on them.”

Sigyn reaches out to stroke the wing of the butterfly. “I love them,” she says softly. “They’re beautiful.”

Loki blushes. “Thank you,” he murmurs. Sigyn tucks a strand of loose blonde hair behind her ear. “You are very talented, Loki. You must know that.”

A burst of butterflies erupts from Loki’s hands, obscuring his pink face. “I am not nearly as good as my mother.”

“But you _will_ be,” Sigyn assures him. “I know it.”

“You think so?”

“I _know_ so. You’re going to be the best sorcerer the universe has ever seen. Just you wait.”

Loki lets the butterflies fade away. “You are too kind, Sigyn.”

“I’m your friend, Loki. I want you to know your worth.”

“My...friend?” Loki asks, a confused expression on his face. “I...don’t have friends.”

Sigyn intertwines their fingers. “You’ve got me.”

Loki turns so red Thor’s cape would be jealous.

 

The scene changes.

“-Norns, Thor, she’s _perfect._ She actually finds my seidr to be interesting! And when she looks at me, it is like the sun itself is holding my gaze.”

Loki’s pacing around his quarters, giddily talking to Thor, who’s sitting on a plush bench. He looks amused. “Have you told her?”

“No, obviously not. I do not think she sees me in that light; I am of royal status, after all, and there are too many problems that come with that.”

Thor grunts. “That certainly doesn’t stop me.”

Loki glares at him. “Sigyn is different than your consorts, Thor. I…” he trails off and twists an emerald ring on his finger. Thor leans forward. “You love her, don’t you?”

Loki shrinks down. “I think I may.”  
Thor pumps the air with his fists. “At last! Tell her, brother! She will accept you, just you see!”

“I don’t know, Thor,” Loki protests. “Father certainly would not approve…”

Thor snorts. “When have you listened to him?” He takes Loki by the shoulders. “Brother. You mean the world to me, and this girl, this Sigyn...she lights up your eyes in a way I have never seen. Go be happy with her.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “I cannot believe _you_ are giving me relationship advice.”

“I am great at relationships.”

“One-night relationships, yes.”

“Get out of here.”

“These are my quarters.”

  
“Go see Sigyn.”

Loki does a hand gesture that Tony imagines is quite rude on Asgard, and runs out the door.

 

The scene changes.

 

The sun is gone. The stars are out, shining brightly in the deep blue of the sky. “Loki,” Sigyn complains, “Not that I don’t enjoy spending time with you, but I am in a dress and you are making me climb a mountain in the dark. Where are we going?”

“You will see.”

“Loki…”

Loki flashes a grin. “Just trust me.”

Sigyn huffs. “You are the worst, your majesty.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

They reach the summit, and Sigyn’s eyes grow wide. “By the Norns,” she whispers. The light of the moon is reflecting off the castle, turning the whole city gold. “It’s beautiful.”

Loki joins her at the edge of the cliff. “I thought you might like it.”

Sigyn turns to him with glistening eyes. “Oh, Loki. You always show me the prettiest things.”

“I find I must return the favour, seeing as you allow me to see you, the prettiest of all.”

Sigyn turns pink and smacks Loki in the arm. “You stop that!”

“Do you not enjoy it?” Loki asks softly. Sigyn’s lips part. “I...no, I think it’s sweet. But surely you have better people to be flirtatious with. I am just a tailor’s daughter.”

“Sigyn.” Loki takes her slim hands in his own. “You are so much more than that. I hope you have seen by now how I feel about you. I do not wish to hide how I yearn for you. If you would return my feelings, that would be the greatest gift I could possibly receive.”

Sigyn ducks her head. “Loki, what are you saying?”

Loki glances at the ground. “I wish to court you, Sigyn. If you would have me. I understand that - !”

The end of his sentence is cut short as Sigyn pulls him down into a kiss. Loki wraps his arms round her waist and they stay like that, holding each other, kissing in the dark.

 

The scene changes.

 

Loki and Sigyn both look slightly older now. Loki’s hair is longer, and he holds himself more regal, like his father. Sigyn has more knowledge in her eyes, and she looks more confident in herself. Loki swings their interlaced hands as they walk through the cobbled streets of the Asgardian market. Sigyn wears a necklace around her throat that Tony recognizes with a pang as the one Loki wore at the gala. She’s dressed in a simple sky blue dress with a white apron, and Loki is wearing a green tunic under a black robe. They’re talking and laughing, both so in love with each other it’s frankly a little sickly sweet to look at.

 

The scene changes, and keeps changing. Loki, kissing Sigyn out on the water, in a boat made of glass. Sleeping side by side under a twisted oak tree. Sigyn excitedly telling Freya all about Loki, and writing letters to Brunnhilde, who had left for training. Loki gushing to Thor about Sigyn. Thor meeting Sigyn for the first time, and absolutely adoring her.

 

The memories finally spiral to a halt when the lighting turns a warm yellow-orange. Firelight. Loki and Sigyn are curled up together, underneath heavy quilts and furs. Sigyn’s arm is laying across Loki’s bare chest as she kisses him softly. “I love you,” she whispers. Loki kisses her forehead. “I love you too, _Kjære_.” He props himself up on an elbow and leans over to kiss Sigyn once more, taking her in his arms.

 

The memories begin to flash past again. There’s Sigyn, curled on the floor of a bathroom, holding her stomach. Freya holding her as she cries. Loki approaching Sigyn’s mother and trying to keep a monotone voice as he asks where Sigyn is. Loki pacing his room anxiously, and the dawn of realization on his face. From what Tony can tell, days pass where Sigyn’s whereabouts are unknown to Loki. Weeks, even.

 

“Freya!” Loki pounds on an oak door. “I know you’re in there, and I know Sigyn is with you!” Silence. Loki leans in close. “Freya, it would be in your best interest to open this door.” His voice is menacing, dripping with venom. “Piss off,” shouts a voice from inside. Loki groans. “Brunnhilde, why are you here? I thought you were off becoming a Valkyrie.”

“None of your business,” Brunnhilde snaps. “And Sigs doesn’t want to see you. So _piss._ _Off_.”

Loki clenches his fists. “Brunnhilde, please.”  
“What part of _no_ do you not get? Is basic etiquette not taught in the castle?”

Loki’s quiet for a moment as he pieces it together. “You didn’t make the cut,” he realizes. Brunnhilde doesn’t say anything. “That’s it, is it not? They deemed you unfit.”

“...So what if they did?” Brunnhilde hisses, trying to sound fierce but clearly close to tears. “I can get you back in,” Loki says mildly. “If you open this door, I can _ensure_ you become a Valkyrie.”

The door opens a crack. “But if I’m not fit…”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You scare me more than Sif does. You are fit. It is just your temper that can be a problem.”

Brunnhilde opens the door wider. “You promise?”

Loki taps a fist over his heart. “I promise on my mother’s life.”

Brunnhilde considers this, and opens the door completely. “Thank you,” Loki purrs, and glides in.

“You’d better hold up your end of the bargain,” Brunnhilde warns. “Otherwise I will flay you like a pig and feed your guts to my cat.”

“Relax, Brunnhilde. I do not intend on double-crossing you.”

Brunnhilde doesn’t get a chance to respond, because Freya opens a bedroom door and strolls out. “Bee, have you seen-” She locks eyes with Loki and a wave of panic crashes over her. “Loki,” she stammers. “Your highness.” Freya gets down on a knee and doesn’t meet his eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Loki tilts her head up with a finger. “My dear Freya, you are a terrible liar. Where is she?”

All the blood drains out of Freya’s face. “Where’s who?”

“Do not attempt to hide her from me, Freya. Where is Sigyn?”

“Bee,” Freya whispers. “Help?”

Brunnhilde takes in Loki, and his worried demeanor masked so well with anger. Slowly, she shakes her head. “Freya, last chance. Where have you hidden Sigyn?”

“I cannot tell you,” Freya gasps. “You will just hurt her.”

The carefully constructed mask slips from Loki’s frame and crashes to the ground, leaving him vulnerable. Scared. “Freya, by the Norns, _I know she is with child._ ”

That gets her. “Pardon?”

“Freya, I am begging you. Let me see her,” Loki pleads. “I do not wish to hurt her. I love her.”

Freya stands up slowly. “You will not tell your father?”

“My father doesn’t even know about her!” Loki cries.

“What’s going on here?” A soft voice interrupts the argument. Loki spins to see Sigyn standing in a doorway, a concerned look on her face. She has one hand resting on her belly. “Loki?” She says in a hushed voice. “Hello, Kjære,” he replies. Sigyn stumbles back. “Loki, you can’t be here, how did you know I was here-” She rambles. Loki pushes past Freya and presses a kiss to Sigyn’s forehead. “If you think,” Loki murmurs. “That I would abandon you for carrying my child, you are sorely mistaken.”

“You know?”

“Of course I know,” Loki says. “And I have never loved you more.”

Sigyn smiles shyly. “What do we do? We can’t exactly raise the baby here.” Loki pauses to think. “We leave. I can find a place to build a house. We can get out. Leave everything behind.”  
“You would do that for me?”

Loki cups Sigyn’s face in his hands. “For you, I would do anything.”

 

Thor is the only one Loki tells about his plan. Frigga knows little - Loki tells her he is leaving to study in Alfheim, and will not be back for an indeterminable amount of time. He helps cover it up when Freya and Brunnhilde sneak Loki and Sigyn out to the Bifrost at night. They take little with them - what they need, they can make or find, and Loki can summon the basics. Heimdall says only “good luck” when he activates the Bifrost. Loki thanks him with a smile as he helps his pregnant girlfriend to the portal. Sigyn holds onto him as the bright light whisks them away. The last thing Loki sees is Freya and Brunnhilde watching from the podium.

 

They get married in a field full of flowers, under a sun as golden as Sigyn’s hair. The cottage they build is homely, off by itself in a clearing in a forest on Vanaheim. The months pass quick and Sigyn becomes bedridden. She gives birth early in the morning, to two twins they name Narfi and Vali. They have blonde hair and blue eyes like their mom. Loki cries. Sigyn laughs, when the pain has died down a little. They all fall asleep together, in the big bed Loki built for himself and his wife. Thor visits and meets his nephews, and is present to hear Narfi’s first word. (“Mama”.) Loki cries then, too.

Loki braids flowers into Sigyn’s hair as they watch their twins play in the green grass, and amuses his kids with the magic butterflies. When they’re five years old, Sigyn gets pregnant with their third child. It’s a girl, and they name her Hel. (Loki’s choice; he insists it is a “name worthy of a warrior princess”.) She has curly black hair and green eyes like her father, and her older brothers adore her. She is different than the others, for when she walks, the grass withers beneath her feet, but birds will land upon her silken hair and sing their merry hearts out. The fourth child they name Jörmungandr, and his hair is straight like his mother’s but black like his father’s. They’ve built the perfect life here. Sigyn is the sun in Loki’s life, his children the world. Narfi is a fighter, brash like Thor, and his brother Vali is quiet, more interested in books and history. Hel like to watch her brothers spar, and on her tenth birthday Loki gives her a spear to practice with. She takes to it quickly, with the help of her brothers. Jörmungandr is a troublemaker who loves pestering his siblings, and sometimes even his parents.

The last child they have is named Fenrir, and he’s got spiky hair that sticks up like wolf’s ears. It refuses to lie flat, earning him the nickname “Valp” from his older siblings. The twins are in their teens now. Hel is ten years old, and Jörmungandr eight. Thor brings the kids gifts, and the parents news of Asgard.

 

And then, because the universe can’t be perfect forever, everything goes wrong.

 

Tony feels sick knowing what’s about to happen. Loki’s coming back from a hunt when he sees the flames licking at the walls of the cottage. His game bag slips from his shoulder and he runs to the house, breaking down what’s left of the door with a blast of magic. “Dad!” he hears Narfi shout. Loki coughs, the smoke stinging his eyes and nose. He finds Narfi in the bedroom Loki and Sigyn share, frantically trying to pull a collapsed shelf off of Sigyn. She’s not unconscious, but she’s hurt. “Go!” he shouts at Narfi. “I’ve got her!” Narfi nods and runs out, calling out for his brother. Loki hauls the shelf off of Sigyn and swings her into his arms.

 

They make it out of the house. Sigyn’s coughing, but nothing’s broken. Loki does a headcount, visibly relaxing when everyone is there. He strokes his wife’s hair and holds his youngest child close. “It will be okay,” he murmurs to them.

 

Except it’s not. Because just when they think everybody got out unharmed, six figures materialize from the woods. “Son of Odin,” one of them sneers. “And your spawn.”

Loki closes his hand around a knife hidden in his sleeve and stands up. “Get your siblings out of here,” he says to the twins. They nod in unison and slowly gather the other kids. “Don’t you dare move,” one of the men snarls. Loki twitches his fingers and the man goes flying backward, hitting a tree with a sickening crunch. The other five remain unfazed. Loki backs up once he’s sure his children can get away, and helps Sigyn to her feet. His eyes don’t leave the rogues, blade raised to defend himself. “You will let us leave,” he demands. The leader tilts his head. “Why come all this way just to let you slip away?”

Sigyn tugs at Loki’s sleeve. “Don’t antagonize them,” she rasps. Loki closes his eyes. “What do you want?” He asks. The leader unsheathes a knife from his belt. “To make your father pay.”

Before Loki has time to react, the knife is whistling through the air, straight towards his heart. He freezes in shock, bracing for the impact, but…

It never comes.

Loki opens his eyes and sees Sigyn in front of him. She staggers. Turns around. Her eyes are blown wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, then collapses into Loki’s arms. The knife is embedded hilt-deep in her chest, blood spreading across her white smock like an ugly flower. The scream that is wrenched from Loki’s throat isn’t human. It makes Tony’s hair stand on end and he has to look away as Sigyn falls to the ground. Loki cradles her body, sobbing. He buries his face in her hair.  His cries are joined by the furious shouts of the twins, and Tony can’t watch as they run from the trees, weapons drawn. One of the rogues draws a bow and Vali falls like a puppet with its strings cut, his blue eyes staring empty at the smoke-filled sky. Blood bubbles up at his lips, running down his cheek and dripping onto the grass. His long hair spreads out beneath him like a lion’s mane. Narfi shrieks in rage and Loki yells out for him to fall back, but Narfi either doesn’t hear him or just ignores him as he flies toward the rogues like a madman, sword cutting down three of them and leaving two standing. He charges one, and Tony thinks for a moment he’ll make it, but then there’s a horrific noise impossible to describe and Narfi looks down to see a blade protruding through his chest. His eyes roll back in his head and his knees buckle, but he stays upright due to the sword. The rogue pulls it out and Narfi falls, right next to his brother. Loki’s eyes flash green and a massive charge of green fire rages through the field, killing the remaining rogues. He breaks down weeping over Sigyn’s still body. Even from where he stands, a mere spectator of an event long passed, Tony feels Loki’s grief radiate over him, as bright and powerful as the green fire that still crackles on burnt patches of grass.

 

The scene changes.

 

Loki sits emotionless on a bed that could only be Thor’s, holding a cup of something hot. Thor is watching him, concerned, while conversing with Freya. Brunnhilde sits in a corner, cradling Fenrir in her arms and speaking in a hushed tone to Hel and Jörmangandr. They all have tear tracks drying on their faces. Loki’s eyes are dead. Sigyn’s blood is dry on his hands, the scorch marks from the fire still visible on his skin. “Loki?” Thor whispers, kneeling in front of his brother. “We must hide your children. They will not be safe here.”

Loki stands up, not saying a word. The blanket Thor had draped around him slides from his shoulders and falls to the ground in a heap.

 

The scene changes.

 

“Da, where’s Fenrir?” Hel’s quiet voice cheeps from behind Loki. Loki closes his eyes. “He is safe, my dear. I sent him to slumber where no one can find him.”

“Won’t he be scared?”

Loki shakes his head. “He will feel nothing until such time as he is woken by my seidr.”

Hel rubs her arms. “How long will that be?”

  
“I do not know, my child.”

Hel falls silent and drops back to hold Jörmungandr’s hand. They’re marching along a sandy trail, jagged rocks pointing up at the sky like teeth.

 

Loki stops at a small cave. “Hel, wait here. Jörmungandr, with me.” He holds out a hand. Jörmungandr shoots a scared look at his sister. Hel kneels down and gives him a hug. “You’ll be okay, little snake. Go. I will see you soon, okay?”

Jörmungandr squeezes her tightly and takes Loki’s hand. His father leads him down to a beach. The water washing against the sand is grey and cold. No birds fly in the overcast sky. Jörmungandr shudders and stays close to his father. “Jörmungandr, I need you to realize something.” Loki kneels down on the sand, enclosing Jörmungandr’s small hands in his own. “This is only temporary. I will find you again. I love you so, so much, and I would not do this if it was not entirely necessary.”

Jörmungandr peers up at Loki with big eyes. “Da, what are you doing?”

Loki doesn’t answer. He closes his eyes and whispers something under his breath. The ground underneath Jörmungandr begins to glow. Loki holds him close as Jörmungandr’s legs begin to fuse together, scales rippling up the length of his small frame. “Da?” Jörmungandr cries, voice hitching. “Da, I’m scared!”

“I know,” Loki whispers into his son’s hair. “But you will be alright. Be strong for me.”

Jörmungandr slumps against Loki as the transformation completes itself. Loki opens his eyes, looking upon the sleeping snake in his arms. Letting out a breath, Loki gathers up his son and wades into the freezing waters. He lowers Jörmungandr into the water, and watches as the ocean claims the small green snake as its own, enveloping him in its depths.

 

Loki wipes away a tear, and the scene changes.

 

Hel is pacing nervously behind her father as he chants words she doesn’t understand. The grass under her feet withers as her feet land on it, a sign she is growing restless. Bein sits a little way off, watching his master patiently through foggy eyes. “Da, why aren’t you telling me anything? Where’s Jörmi? Fenrir?”

Loki hushes her and continues his ritual. A rip in the fabric of space opens before them, a swirling vortex into a bleak land of snow and stone. Hel gulps. “Is that…?”  
“Hel,” Loki says flatly. “Your namesake. Come, we do not have much time.” He takes his daughter’s hand and leads her through the portal. Hel shivers as the air grows cold. Her father doesn’t even flinch.

They walk through the desolate land in silence, until they come upon the ruins of a castle that probably used to be beautiful, but has fallen into disrepair. Loki leads Hel inside, down to the tombs. The air is warmer down there, and Hel relaxes. Loki walks over to one of the vacant stone slabs and waves a hand over it, clearing it of debris. “Hel. Come here.” Hel obeys, even though her legs are shaking. He pats the slab. “Hop up.”

Hel clambers onto the stone. “What are we doing here?”

Loki tightens the clasp on Hel’s cloak. “I am going to put you to sleep. You will not feel anything, and when you wake, I will be here. I cannot tell you how long you will be asleep, for I do not know, but I promise you I will return. Now, lay down. Here, hold Bein."

Hel sniffles and clutches her fox close to her stomach. Bein yawns and nuzzles into Hel's cloak with his ghostly nose. “Da, I don’t want to go. What about Ma? Won’t she be looking for me?”

Loki gently pushes Hel into a lying position. “You know your mother is not coming back,” he says softly. Hel glances down at her feet and gives a stiff nod.

“Hold still. This will be cold at first, but it will not hurt. Goodnight, my daughter. I love you.” He kisses her forehead, and strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. Hel looks up at him, fearful, as Loki sets smooth stones around her. He murmurs a spell and the stones melt, encasing Hel and her phantom fox in a layer of rock. When it hardens, where she lay is a perfect statue of her, asleep. Loki lets out a shaky breath.

 

The scene changes.

 

Loki is much older now. He’s wearing a familiar suit -  this is the night he ran from the balcony. He’s standing at the edge of the sea, tears running down his face as the water laps at his feet. “Oh, my beloved Sigyn. I am so sorry,” he whispers. “I have let you down. Please, forgive me.”

 

The world fades to black. Tony gasps as his eyes snap open. He’s back on the roof, sitting cross-legged in front of Loki. Loki, his poor Loki, is crying silent tears, the pain of watching his family die freshly branded in his vision.

“You had children,” Tony whispers.

Loki nods. “Three of the children I had with Sigyn still live. Asleep, yes, but alive. Narfi and Vali perished the same night their mother did. I could not save them.”

“Why did the rogues attack you?”

Loki crosses his legs. “They were traitors to the throne, cast out by Odin. They wished to humiliate him, so they tracked me down, hoping to bring him my head. But they took my heart instead.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tony says. It’s the only thing he can think of to say.

Loki smiles sadly. “It was a long time ago. I still grieve for Sigyn, and Narfi and Vali, but there is nothing I can do.” He pauses. “When I returned to Asgard after hiding my children, things were...much different. Freya and I never became close. She distanced herself from the royal family. The last conversation I had with her, she blamed me for Sigyn’s death. I cannot say she was wrong. As for Brunnhilde, she became a Valkyrie. I have not spoken to her since, though she was at Thor’s coronation with her comrades. I do not think she has forgiven me.”

Loki stands up. “This is why I could not kiss you on that balcony, Tony. I still love Sigyn. I always will. I care for you deeply, and I apologize for running how I did. Will you forgive me?”

Tony rises to his feet. “I already did, Lokes. Will you come home?”

Loki blinks. “Home?”

“Yeah, you know.” Tony shifts. “Home. Malibu.”

Loki smiles through his tears. “You mean that?”

“Duh. I’m not gonna leave you here.”

“Thank you, Tony. And yes, I will come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also yes I know that mythologically speaking the only kids Loki had with Sigyn were Narfi & Vali but for the sake of this story, they also had Jormandandr, Hel, & Fenrir. (Sleipnir is a different story.)


	9. In Another Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony suggests a couple bad ideas. Loki comes to terms with how he feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block is a bitch.
> 
> Also, I am not happy with this chapter, but I needed to get one out. Sorry if it makes 0 sense. It's exam season and I am stressed AF.

Tony has never been happier to smell smoke at two AM. Mainly because it means that Loki is home, practicing spells in his redecorated room. 

They don’t talk much about what happened on the balcony, which Tony is thankful for. He’s messed up enough friendships by doing something stupid like that, and losing the one he has with Loki is something he couldn’t bear. Loki, after sharing Sigyn’s story, has fully realized that Tony is truly the only person he can trust. And he doesn’t intend on leaving him again. 

Maybe Midgard isn’t as bad as he thought.

 

“So I’ve been thinking,” Tony says one day at lunch.    
“That’s never good,” Loki responds, looking at Tony over the top of his book. 

Tony pretends to be offended. “Wow. Okay, I see how it is.”

Loki chuckles. “What have you been thinking, Tony?”   
Tony knits his fingers together. “You’re a god and I’m a superhero. We should teach each other our fighting styles. Training, y’know?”   
Loki sets his book aside, intrigued. “You wish to spar?”

“If that’s how you want to put it, yeah. And you never know; maybe we’ll fight some aliens together or somethin’ one day.”

“You would want me to be a “superhero” alongside you?”

Tony shrugs. “I mean, if you want to. Just don’t be a supervillain, because then I’d probably have to try and stop you and that would suck.”

“Also,” Loki points out, “I would, how is it you would put it, “kick your ass”.”

“That’s true. How about you just don’t go dark side? Solves that problem?”

Loki snorts. “I have no intention of fighting you, Tony. Or anyone on this planet, unless they cause it harm.”

“See? You’ll make a great superhero.”    
Tony pushes away from the table. “You got armour? We should spar in our armour.”

Loki rises as well. “May I suggest we fight without any advantages first? In order to get a feel for how the other attacks and defends.”

Tony points a finger at Loki. “That, my friend, is a good idea. Lemme just get out of these jeans, and I’ll take us down to my gym.”

Loki nods in acknowledgement. “Very well.”

 

***

 

Loki looks good in exercise wear. Tony doesn’t know where he got it, but Loki shows up in the gym wearing a stupidly tight tank top and a pair of loose fitting track pants. (Black, as usual.) Tony watches Loki pull his hair back as he takes a drink from his water bottle. The guy is even graceful doing something mundane like pulling his hair into a ponytail. He does it in a quick, fluid motion that should  _ not  _ be so hot to look at. 

Loki shakes his head to let his hair fall back into place. Tony chokes on his water. 

“Tony?” Loki says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yup,” Tony coughs, wiping water from his face. “Just choked. It’s all good.” 

He strides forward to meet Loki in the middle of the sparring ring. “Okay, so here are the rules. No magic, and no throwing the other out of the ring.”

“Acceptable,” Loki agrees. “Your arc reactor can’t function as a weapon, yes?”

“Not in this instance. You ready?”   
Loki settles into a beginning stance. “Yes.”

Tony raises his hands in front of his face. “Also, please don’t kill me.”

“I will try not to incapacitate you seriously.”

“Comforting.”

Tony throws a punch, catching Loki off guard and smacking him in the jaw. Loki stumbles back. “That’s not fair!” He complains. Tony shrugs. “Always be prepared for an attack, from any- agh!”

Loki cuts Tony off by launching himself at him, catching Tony in the stomach. Tony doubles over, winded, and Loki throws another equally violent punch at him. Tony blocks this one and delivers one of his own. Loki blocks it with ease, looking unsettlingly unperturbed as he steps back. They fight back and forth, Loki pulling some elegant takedowns, and some rather vicious offense moves.Tony manages to land a hit on Loki that makes him fall. “Oh, very good, Anthony,” he says as he stands again, dabbing blood from his lip. Tony winces. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Never apologize to your opponent. And you just made a god bleed, so definitely don’t apologize for that. I am proud of you.”

Tony steps back, flattered. “Thanks, Lokes.”

Loki grins an evil grin and darts forward, knocking Tony to the ground. He pins Tony’s hands above his head with a vice like grip. “Always be prepared for an attack from any side, Anthony,” he purrs into Tony’s ear. Tony feels his whole body growing hot.  _ Shit, no, this is too awkward.  _

Loki sits up, straddling Tony’s hips. He runs a tongue across his still-bleeding lip. His chest is heaving as he catches his breath. 

_ Fuck, get off, get off of me, _ Tony thinks. He hits the mat, a little too aggressively, and Loki rolls off him, grinning. Tony darts to his feet and speed-walks out of the ring. 

“Tony?” Loki calls. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Tony replies, strangled. “I’ll just...I’ll be right back.”

Loki sits down in the middle of the ring, cross legged. He pulls at the wraps on his hands absentmindedly, waiting for Tony to return.

 

They spar in hand-to-hand combat six more rounds. Loki wins four, including the first, and Tony wins three. Tony’s not exactly surprised at that. He tries to keep calm each time Loki manages to get him either pinned to the mat or up against the pillars in the corner of the ring. (That happened twice. Tony was simultaneously intimidated and more than a little turned on.)

They decide that fighting in their armour indoors would be a poor choice, so they meet on the beach instead. Tony has to hold in a laugh when Loki appears, because his helm is so unnecessarily grandiose it’s a little ridiculous. Not that he doesn’t look amazing in it. When he looks at Tony, the light from the Loki Tony knows is hidden by a darker, more violent version. This is the Loki his enemies would meet on the battlefield. He stands with his legs a shoulder’s width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Tony lands a few meters away from him, flipping his faceplate open. “Looking sharp, your majesty.” 

Loki gives a mock bow. “Thank you. And you are looking…”

“Dashing? Brilliant? Like the world’s sexiest genius?”

“I was going to say “ridiculous”, but those work too.”

“Says the guy wearing antlers.”

Loki touches the horns on his helm. “These are symbolic!” He protests. 

“Of what? The fact that you’re a prick?”

There’s a sharp metallic noise and in a flash, Loki’s holding one of those magic knives he pulls from nowhere. “You’re about to find out how much of a prick I can be.”

Tony laughs so loudly he probably gives a couple birds a heart attack. “Lokes, that is definitely  _ not  _ what that expression means. But I’ll let you have it.”

Loki lowers his knife. “One day, you really must teach me about Midgardian language, for I do not understand most of your dialects.”

“I’ve noticed. I’ll get around to it.” 

Loki summons another blade. “Since you got to make the rules last time, it is my turn. Rule one - any weapon is allowed, save for those that could seriously injure each other. I do not wish to have to heal you today. Rule two - any fighting strategy counts. And rule three, no complaining when I take you down with magic.”

Tony flips down his faceplate. “Game on, reindeer games.”

Loki groans. “What is with you and your nicknames?”   
“Mainly the fact that you’re really easy to make fun of.”

“I am going to stick this knife somewhere unpleasant.”

Tony powers up the weapons system in his suit. “You ready?”   
“Always,” Loki says slyly. Tony gives the signal, and Loki flies at him with the ferocity of a wild cat. The helm really ups his scare factor, because A, there’s a pair of massive horns flying directly towards Tony’s face, and B, Loki’s eyes aren’t visible until he’s flinging Tony back against the sand. Tony retaliates by blasting Loki backwards with a well-aimed shot from his repulsor beam. Loki skids across the ground, flinging up a spray of sand that makes him sputter. A dagger spins through the air and knocks Tony’s next shot off course, and he blasts into the water instead. He’s grinning under his faceplate as Loki fires dagger after dagger. Tony avoids most of them, but one finds its mark and causes the targeting system of Tony’s left repulsor gauntlet to go offline. “Damn,” he curses.

“Having trouble?” Loki teases, skirting around Tony. Another dagger flies at Tony and he blasts this one out of the way before activating the thrusters and shooting up into the air. Loki scowls and sends a wave of daggers after him. Three bounce off Tony’s armour but none damage it. Tony charges up his remaining repulsive and fires at Loki. Loki grunts as he’s slammed against the ground again. He pulls his helm off and tosses it to the ground. “Surrendering already?” Tony mocks. 

“Quite the contrary,” Loki replies. He launches himself off the ground and wraps a hand around Tony’s arm, dragging both of them back to the sand. Tony falls face first in the ocean. He pushes himself up and charges Loki, only to fall through Loki’s body. “Shit!” He curses, as the illusion flickers away. “Where are you, you asshole?” 

He scans the beach, seeing no one. A sudden impact to his back knocks him to the ground, winding him. “I win,” Loki hums. Tony, trying to level out his breathing, doesn’t move. Loki frowns and stands up. “Tony? Are you alright?”

Tony, grinning behind his mask, says nothing. 

“Anthony!” Loki says, growing panicked. Tony waits three counts as JARVIS sends power to the damaged gauntlet.  _ Lay still, lay still, let him get closer… _

Loki bends over and shakes Tony’s shoulder. “Anthony?”

Tony powers up both his gauntlets, twists around, and blasts Loki backwards. Loki goes flying, screeching swears in at least four different languages as he does. He lands with a heavy  _ thud  _ in the shallow water. Tony rises to his feet and opens his face plate. “I think you mean  _ I  _ win.”

Loki shakes sand from his hair. “You fight well, Stark. I’m impressed.”

Tony aims his gauntlet at Loki. “You agree I win, then?”

Loki raises his hands in surrender. “You won. And did a stunning job of it, might I add.”

Tony lowers his hands and goes over to help Loki up. “You want a drink? Some ice for the bruises I definitely just gave you?”

“A drink sounds lovely,” Loki responds. “And I apologize for damaging your suit.”

Tony waves it off as they head back to the house. “It’s alright. This is an older model anyways; I’m working on a new version.”

“You will have to show it to me sometime.”

“I will. Don’t forget you antlers.” Tony gestures to the helm Loki left in the sand. Loki pushes himself to his feet, fixes his surcoat, and strides over to retrieve it. “They’re not  _ antlers, _ ” he says, miffed.

“No? Then what are they?”   
“Horns,” Loki responds. He pauses. “And if you make a joke out of that, I swear on the life of my mother I will run you through.”   
Tony grins. “You know me so well.”

“I know. It is rather unfortunate.”

***

“Have you ever wanted to fly?”

“Pardon?”

Tony swirls his whisky around in its glass. “Like, you know how I can fly using my suit? And your adoptive brother can use his hammer, however that works.”

Loki quirks a brow. “I am aware. And if I am honest, I have never really given it any thought.”

“I think it would be damn cool if you could fly.”

Loki shakes his head, chuckling. “I suppose it might be. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Tony muses, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been here for what? Three months now?”

“Around that, yes.”

“And somehow we haven’t had to fight any big bads. Shocking, to be honest.”   
Loki takes a swig of his own drink. “Is this going somewhere?”

“Yes. I was wondering if I could build you a prototype suit. Keep with your whole princely aesthetic, obviously, but give you the ability to fly.”

Loki looks wary. “I don’t know, Anthony. I am accustomed to fighting on the ground. Also, your suit requires you to use your hands to stabilize, yes? I don’t know if you have noticed, but most of my combat skills rely on having full access to my hands.”

Tony makes a “no kidding” face.”Lokes, you’re looking at a guy who built a revolutionary weapon out of some scraps in a cave. I think I can figure something out.”

Loki taps his fingers on his glass. “I am not sure this would be a good idea.”

“Please? Just a prototype. You wouldn’t need to wear it into battle.”

Loki sighs. “Alright. But if I get injured, I am blaming it on you.”

“That’s fair, my friend.”

Tony downs the rest of his drink. “Let’s get to work.”

“Right  _ now _ ?” 

“There’s no time like the present,” Tony says cheerfully.

Loki grumbles something about Tony being a psychopath as Tony drags him down to the lab.

 

Loki’s getting the feeling Tony had been thinking of making him a suit for a while. Why? When they reach the lab, Tony pulls up a folder literally titled  _ Loki - Armour  _ that’s already filled with blueprints. 

“This was certainly a spur of the moment decision,” Loki comments as Tony opens one of the documents. Tony gives him a half smile. “Didn’t get much sleep while you were away. Had to find some way to preoccupy myself.”

Loki feels a pang of guilt in his stomach. Tony hasn’t said much about how he reacted when Loki had run off like a fool, but he can’t imagine it was good. It’s a topic he doesn’t know how to bring up, and certainly not one he thinks Tony would want to talk about. 

He’s shaken from his remorse by Tony stretching a glowing hologram over his arm. “What,” Loki says, “The hell are you doing?”

“Making sure I got your measurements right, tallass. Can you sit on the table here? I need to do your legs.”

Loki stares at him. “Why am I letting you do this, again?”

Tony shoves him onto the table. “Because you treasure me as a friend. Leg up.”

Loki warily obeys, and Tony sends one hologram away and pulls up a different one, this one resembling one of the leg pieces of Tony’s armour. “Wonderful. I’m only a little off.” He walks away, seemingly to fetch something from another workbench. “You can put your leg down, y’know.” 

Loki scoots back and sits cross legged on top of the desk. “You know, I am content with my armour. Perhaps you could refrain from creating an entire suit?”

Tony walks back holding a box of half-assembled armour. “Yeah, that’s what I was gonna do. Do me a favour and put these on? They’re old leg pieces from a suit I scrapped.”

Loki lifts one from the box. “Why did you scrap it? Was it malfunctioning?”

“Nah, just didn’t like it. Here, I’ll help.”

He bends down in front of Loki and opens the boots, helping Loki slide his feet into the plain silver boots. Loki kicks his feet absentmindedly as Tony stands up. “These things are heavy,” he says. “How do you fly in them?”

“I told you, those are old. I’m working on making the suit lighter. I’d let you try on the current ones, but, well, I don’t let anyone touch that one.”

“That’s fair.”

Tony offers a hand to Loki so he can stand up. Loki awkwardly hops off the table, tottering uneasily in the boots. “Easy there,” Tony laughs, grabbing Loki’s shoulders to steady him. “This was a bad idea,” Loki says matter-of-factly. 

“Lokes, you should know by now that everything I do is a bad idea. Besides! This will be fun. Live a little. You don’t have to be a prince here.”

Loki sighs. “Alright, alright. Show me how to use these infernal things.”

Tony walks Loki out to the middle of the room to prevent anything being set on fire. “What you’re gonna do is lean back on your heels. No, not yet,” he yelps, as Loki’s boots give a little hiss of ignition. “Just wait. They’re gonna come on pretty quickly, so you’ve gotta hold onto me, otherwise you’ll eat shit. Or fly into the ceiling. Which I can tell you from first hand experience, is not fun.”

Loki smiles crookedly. “It sounds like the great Tony Stark was once a mess at flying too.”

Tony chortles. “Once? I still am. Okay, now start putting pressure on the heels. Not all at once. Slowly.”

Loki complies, and begins to lift off much more gracefully that Tony’s first attempt. “There we go! See? You’re doing great.”

“I don’t like this,” Loki mutters. “I think I’d like to stay on the ground.”   
“Loki, it’s fine. You’re safe. Just hold onto me.”   
Loki’s grip on Tony’s hands tightens to the point Tony winces. He doesn’t pull away, though, which Loki appreciates. “What exactly does this have to do with building me a suit?” He hisses through clenched teeth. 

“This is for fun,” Tony responds. “Because that’s what we do here. Have fun. And you are too tightly wound. You’ve gotta let it out, Lokes. Nobody’s gonna judge you down here.”   
“I think our definitions of “fun” mean very different things.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Loki glowers at him and tightens his hands around Tony’s again. “Ow,” Tony complains. Loki responds with a smug smile. It backfires, though, because as Loki gets distracted with annoying Tony, one of his boosters slips out from under him and he smacks into Tony. “Fuck!” he squawks. Tony laughs. “Nice one, Reindeer Games.”

Loki shoots back an insult in a foreign language, but he doesn’t put any venom behind the words. He’s grinning too. He looks up at Tony, and the smile fades. He feels Tony’s arms around his back, feels his heartbeat against Loki’s chest. He’s suddenly overtaken by the thought of kissing Tony, feeling Tony’s lips against his own again, to hold him in his arms like it was the last time. 

He  _ wants  _ to kiss Tony. 

Loki pushes backward. “Get me out of these things,” he demands. Tony frowns. “Lokes, are you-”

“Anthony. Get me down  _ now. _ ” 

Tony, startled by Loki’s sudden outburst, helps Loki land and get out of the boots. Before he can ask what happened, Loki’s pushed past him and stormed out of the lab.

Tony calls after him, but Loki ignores it. 

 

Loki’s heart is pounding in his ears as he rushes to his room. His hands are shaking and he feels sick. When he looks down at his hands, he’s horrified to find them covered in blood. Sigyn’s blood. He cries out in distress, but when he blinks, the blood is gone. The door to his room slams shut behind him as Loki collapses onto his bed, trembling. He’s plagued with the image of Sigyn dying in his arms, blue eyes fading fast, blood slick against her pale skin. Loki covers his eyes with his hands, desperately trying to rid himself of the memory. 

And then Sigyn begins to change, and suddenly Loki is holding Tony, and staring into  _ Tony’s _ dead eyes, feeling the cold metal of his iron suit against his bloody hands. The arc reactor is shattered, the suit broken. “No,” Loki sobs. “Please, no.”

_ This can’t happen, _ he thinks.  _ I can’t let Tony die because of me. _

 

Loki had not felt this way for anyone since Sigyn. Not even Svaðilfari, the father of Loki’s youngest child, who Loki had fallen for while on a diplomatic trip to Alfhiem. (That was a fun story, that Loki would never tell anybody.) 

It had started, or at least Loki had realized, that day that Tony took him to Los Angeles. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that had triggered Loki to figure it out. Perhaps it had been Tony’s smile, or the way he’d said Loki’s name. Whatever it was, Loki had realized then that he truly  _ loved _ Tony. 

And that night on the balcony, when Tony had kissed him, Loki wanted to stay. He wanted to stay, with Tony, and be happy again. 

When he’d said he had betrayed Sigyn, it wasn’t just because he had kissed someone else. When Sigyn had died, Loki had made a pact as her body burned on the lake that he would never love anyone again, because it would end in pain and death. And now, because of Loki’s stupid heart and Tony’s stupid smile, Loki was going to watch Tony die. No, it was better if Loki never let Tony be with him. He could never know how Loki feels about him. 

It would hurt, but Loki will remain friends with Tony. Protect him as he would a lover, but  _ never _ let Tony get too close. 

 

Losing him would be too much. 

 

***

 

Tony finds Loki in the gym three hours later. He knocks quietly on the door before entering. A knife shoots through the air, hitting the wall and burying itself hilt-deep in the plaster. “Anthony,” Loki says softly. He’s changed back into his tanktop from earlier. “Hey, Lokes.” Tony leans against the doorframe. “You okay? You, uh, freaked out a little back there.”   
Loki wipes sweat off his face with a towel. “Yes, I am alright. I suppose I am still being affected by what I shared with you the other night. I forgot how using that power made memories resurface.”

Tony strides over and sits on one of the folding chairs against the wall. “Did I do something to trigger it?”

Loki doesn’t look him in the eye. “No,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

Tony gets the feeling Loki’s hiding something, but he knows better than to pry. “You know,” he says cautiously, “I lost both my parents when I was young. Not super young, mind you. I was an adult. Twenty one. But it  _ hurt _ . A lot. For months I didn’t know what to do, because they were just  _ gone. _ My dad, well, he wasn’t exactly what you’d call a great father, but he was...a good man, I suppose. Smart. Helped create America’s first superhero and all that. I grieved for him, I suppose, but I was really torn up over my mom. She was the better parent. Her death really fucked me up. I never really imagined living in a world without her.”

Loki sits down in front of Tony to listen. Tony sighs. “It took me a long ass time to recover, but when I did, I came out even stronger than I was before. And I know this doesn’t compare to what you lost, but my point is I know what it’s like to lose someone. After all these years, it still hurts. Believe me, I can relate to that. It’s gonna keep hurting for the rest of your life. There’s no sugar coating that.”

Tony kneels down in front of Loki. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you. You relived those memories so I could learn more about you. And I want to help you, Loki. You’re my friend, and the one person on this Earth who I would truly, one hundred percent trust with my life. So if there’s  _ anything _ you want me to do, I will do it for you.”

Loki rests his head against Tony’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

 

***

 

“Talk to me, Doctor.”

“Director,” a man says, stepping out from behind a circular contraption. “Is there anything we know for certain?” The first man, who wears all black and whose eye is covered by a black patch. “The tesseract is misbehaving,” the doctor responds. “Is that supposed to be funny?” The man in black snaps. “No, it's not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she's...misbehaving.” They both stop to observe the machine, which houses a glowing blue cube. “How soon til you pull the plug?” The man in black says quietly.

“ She's an energy source,” the doctor says. “If we turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level…”

They continue to speak in hushed voices as the blue cube grows brighter. From up on the catwalk, another man joins them. “I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things,” the man in black says coolly. 

“Well, I see better from a distance,” the newcomer responds. 

“Are you seeing anything that might set this thing off?” The director says. They’re cut off by another scientist calling for the Doctor. 

“Doctor! It’s spiking again!”

The doctor excuses himself and hurries off to meet the scientist. 

Barton, the newcomer, shakes his head in response to the Director’s question. “No one’s come and gone. And Selvig’s clean. No contacts, no IM. If there’s any tampering, sir, it wasn’t on this end.”

The director looks confused. “At this end?”

Barton nods. “Yeah. The Cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right? Doors open from both sides.”

As he speaks, the blue cube begins to spark. Barton and the Director share worried looks. The cube keeps sparking, each time growing more and more bright. There’s a crack and the cube lets off a massive beam of light, and on the platform across the bunker, a hole in space tears open. There’s a flash of light and the room fills with smoke. As it clears, a figure is visible on the platform. Humanoid, but not human. It wears strange armour, and in its hand holds a golden scepter. A glowing blue stone sits encircled in silver blades.

It stands, surveying the room from under a hood.    
“Sir, please put down the spear!” the director shouts. The man in the hood tilts his head and strides forward, elegantly. “Mortals,” it hisses, in a voice like a snake’s. “Fear not. I do not come to harm you. Obey, and you will be spared. I come only to find what my master lost.”

“Yeah, I’m still gonna have to ask you to put the scepter down,” the Director shouts again. The hooded figure lifts its head, revealing white skin under a gold cage. “Jesus fucking Christ,” the director mutters. “Put the damn thing down, or I’m going to open fire on your ugly alien ass!”

The figure says nothing, and raises the scepter. Barton realizes what it’s about to do just as the scepter fires, and he tackles the Director to the ground. The guards open fire, but the figure pays them no mind. He strolls forward, shooting them down with the scepter as though they were nothing. Barton rises, drawing a gun, and moves toward the figure. Just as he raises his hand to shoot, the hooded man grabs his wrist. “You are a good soldier,” he hisses. “Loyal. Yes, you will serve him well.”

He touches the tip of the scepter to Barton’s chest. Barton’s eyes turn black, then blue, the same colour as the stone inside the scepter. “Now come,” the Other purrs. “We have much to do. The god of mischief hides on this planet, and our Master requires him for his great plan.”    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanos is a trick ass bitch and I hope he chokes


	10. Light Her Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony grows worried for Loki after his safety is threatened. Loki does something stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah what two chapters in one day
> 
> Ya boy has no life

“Good to go on this end. The rest is up to you.” Tony powers on his thrusters and shoots out of the water, droplets flying off every which way. 

“ _ You disconnected the transmission lines? Are we off the grid? _ ” Pepper’s voice comes over his headset. 

“Stark Tower’s about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy,” Tony replies. 

“ _ Well, assuming the arc reactor takes over and it actually works, _ ” Pepper says. 

“I assume,” Tony says. “Light her up.” 

Around the corner, Stark Tower, fully completed, lights up. 

“ _ How does it look? _ ” Pepper asks. 

“Like Christmas,” Tony says. “But with more...me.”

He hears someone laugh on the other end. Not Pepper. 

“Peps, is someone else there?”

“ _ Loki is, _ ” Pepper answers.  _ “He showed up about twenty minutes ago. _ ”

“Is he still in his pyjamas?” Tony asks. 

“ _ Yes, because they’re comfortable, _ ” Loki’s voice says, distantly. Tony chuckles. “See you soon, Lokes. Peps, is the landing pad functional? I don’t want to walk around in this thing forever.”

He hears the clicking of a keyboard on the other end. “ _ Yes, it’s working. _ ”

“ _ Hurry up, will you? _ ” Loki shouts in the background. “ _ This is taking too long! _ ”

Tony lands on the landing pad and walks toward the door as the rings remove the Iron Man suit. Pepper’s waiting for him by the console. He greets her with a wide grin and an embrace. “We did it, Peps. And it is incredible.” 

Pepper hands him a glass of champagne. “To Stark Tower,” she says. Tony clinks their glasses together. “To Stark Tower,” he repeats. 

“To Stark Tower!” Loki slurs from the couch. Tony turns to see him holding the champagne bottle high in the air. “Really?” he says. Loki shrugs. “I got bored. Did you have fun?”

“Yep. Tons. Nothing like scaring the hell out of a bunch of passengers aboard a ferry. Are you drunk?”

“I am…” Loki frowns. “...Mildly inebriated.” 

“Great,” Tony chides. Pepper grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t want to stop him.”

Tony waves it off. “Let the guy have his fun. So, Lokes, what do you think?”

Loki stands up. “I think it’s...very you. Loud. Obnoxious. Overly garish.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Loki sidles over to them. Tony bites his lips to keep from smiling when he realizes that Loki’s hair is pulled back in a bun. A lone curl sticks up like an antennae. “It is a good thing,” Loki assures him. “Oh, and since Pepper hasn’t told you because I interrupted her, a man by the name of Coulson called, wishing to speak with you.”

Tony groans. “Peps, tell him to fuck off, will you? I’ve already said I have no interest in joining Fury’s super secret boy band.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” says a voice. The trio turns to see the elevator doors open, and a man in a suit steps out. “Agent Coulson,” Tony drawls. “Please, come in. Welcome to the party nobody invited you to. Hey, JARVIS?”

_ “Yes, sir?”  _

“You’re fired. This is a security breach. I raised you better than this.”

_ “My apologies, sir. _ ”

Tony huffs and downs his champagne like a shot. “To what do I owe this...unpleasant surprise?” 

Coulson hands Tony a file. “There’s been an incident.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Did you guys misplace a super villain again? Because I am having no part in bringing it back.”

“Just read it, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony grumbles something under his breath and walks over to the desk. Loki follows him, setting the empty bottle down. Tony transfers the document to the holoscreen, and examines the contents. Loki frowns as Tony scans a file. “What’s this?” Loki says, snatching a hologram of a blue cube up. “No idea,” Tony responds.    
“It looks like the housing for an infinity stone,” Loki says, turning it over in his hands.”

“An infinity-? Mr. Stark, who’s this?”

“My name is Loki,” Loki answers. “Tell me, Son of Coul, what have you done with this stone?”

“Wait, slow down. Loki, as in the Norse god? Brother of Thor?”

Tony holds in a laugh as Loki slowly turns toward Coulson. Rule number one of surviving Loki: never bring up the fact that he’s considered Thor’s brother. “No,” Loki snaps, “ _ Not _ the brother of Thor. But yes, Loki as in the Norse god. You didn’t answer my question, mortal. What have you done with the stone?”

Tony and Pepper exchange amused looks. Here’s Loki, all intimidating and scary, towering over Agent Coulson while wearing a pair of bright blue lounge pants dotted with snowflakes and a white t-shirt that’s a size too big and reads “I woke up like this”. Not exactly the world’s most terrifying sight.    
“I’m sorry,” Coulson responds coolly. “You are not authorized to access S.H.I.E.L.D. documents.”

Loki’s hands ball into fists. “Anthony, sometimes I forget just how  _ dull _ you Midgardians can be.”

Tony pats him on the shoulder. “Cool it, princey. Coulson, how about you take a nice walk down fuck-you lane?”   
Pepper groans. “Tony, enough. Phil, I’ll escort you out. It sounds like Tony’s got homework to do. How about you tell me about that woman you were seeing? A cellist, right?”

Coulson starts walking back to the elevator, Pepper at his side. 

“Who the shit is Phil?” Tony calls after them. “I’m pretty sure his first name is just “Agent”, Pepper!”

Pepper ignores him and the elevator doors close.    
“Who was that?” Loki asks, once they’re alone.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Agent Coulson, of S.H.I.E.L.D. He’s been a royal pain in my ass for a couple years now. Keeps trying to recruit me into some team initiative of his.”

Loki leans against the desk. “And why don’t you?”

“I don’t play well with others,” Tony answers. “Especially not other...superheroes.”

“Interesting,” Loki says, in a tone that makes it obvious he really doesn’t find it interesting at all. He paces around the desk to stand at Tony’s side. “He said there’s been an incident, yes? It must be serious, if he came all this way.”

“Yeah.” Tony scrolls through the files, occasionally stopping to read a paragraph or two. “So update, the stone was stolen. By some guy whose name they don’t know. All it says is that he was looking for…” He trails off, heart skipping a beat. “Oh, fuck.”

Loki frowns. “What is it?” He peers over Tony’s shoulder, fingers gently brushing Tony’s waist as he reads the file. 

 

_...While his exact objective is unknown, before leaving, the alien stated he was “looking for something his master lost”, and before leaving, that “the god of mischief hides on this planet, and our master requires him for his great plan.” _

 

There’s more to read, but Loki doesn’t bother. “That is...worrying,” he says. Tony turns his head so he can look at Loki. “Do you know this guy? Is he from Asgard?”

Loki shakes his head. “I have no idea who he is. And that is not how Asgardians travel; in fact, I have never seen an artifact be used like this before.”

“I don’t suppose there’s another god of mischief he could be talking about?” Tony asks meekly. Loki jumps up onto the desk. “No. Whoever this alien is, he is certainly searching for me.”

“Great,” Tony sighs. “Looks like we’re in this whether we like it or not.”

 

***

 

Neither of them sleep easily that night. Tony lays awake, worrying over who could be searching for Loki, because according to the file, whoever attacked the base killed three people and had the power to enslave minds. He wants to believe it’ll be okay, because Loki is a god and could probably overpower whoever this guy is, but he can’t help but be worried about Loki. The guy hasn’t exactly been in the best state of mind as of late. At around two o’clock, after three hours of restless rolling around in a bed too big for one person, Tony gets up and heads back to the living area to read the file again. It’s strange to be here, living in Stark Tower, instead of at home in Malibu. He wonders how Loki’s taking it - he hadn’t stopped by Loki’s new room quite yet, but he imagines the god has probably already transferred all of his assorted magical knick knacks and bookshelves over. (Tony made sure not to furnish the room too garishly, because he knew Loki would just redecorate.) 

He turns on the holoscreens, flinching in the harsh blue light that makes his eyes sting. He reads and re-reads the files over and over again, trying to find anything he might’ve missed. Anything that might give him clues to what this guy wanted to do with Loki. Of course, he doesn’t find anything, but at least he’s trying. The few pictures that have been salvaged from the base are grainy, and only show vague silhouettes. There’s one video, and it takes several tries and four programs just to get it semi-clear. “Fuck,” Tony whispers, as he watches the alien blast agents back. “Fuck,” he repeats, staggering away from the controls. “JARVIS, do a scan. Find this guy. We need to stop him.”

_ “Where should I scan, Mr. Stark?” _

“The whole fucking planet, Jarv, I don’t know! If he finds Loki, that thing might actually harm him.”

_ “Completing a world-wide scan. Permission to hack into secure channels?” _

“Granted. Where’d I put my fucking undersuit?” 

Tony jogs off to rummage through the clothes he brought from his Malibu house. He manages to find his undersuit, and pulls it on while running to the landing platform. “Anything, J?” He asks his A.I. as he suits up.

_ “Yes, sir. I have detected a large disturbance similar in nature to the incident at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base.”  _

“Great, where is it?”

_ “Stuttgart, Germany. Would you like me to plot a course? It is a three and a half hour flight.” _

“Yes, J, plot a course. And put on my roadtrip playlist.”

_ “Right away, sir.” _

Tony takes off, spiraling up above the clouds. “Oh, and leave a message for Loki, telling him I’ll be gone for a couple hours.”

_ “Mr. Loki is not in Stark Tower. I can send a message to his StarkPhone, if you would like?” _

Tony nearly stops dead in the middle of the sky. “The fuck do you mean, he’s not in the tower? Where is he?”

_ “I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. It appears he left around an hour ago.” _

“What the fuck could he be doing? It’s two in the morning!”

 

***

 

Loki is doing something stupid. 

 

After memorizing what one of the captured agents looked like, he cloaked himself and snapped off to wherever the archer had been taken. He appears behind the agent in a dark, decrepit underground base. Agents, turned by whatever magic is in the scepter, bustle about as the agent Loki followed makes his way toward a hangar, where a small jet is parked. “Remember,” he says to the small entourage that follows him, “We’re only going to get the iridium. Do not, under any circumstances, interfere with the Boss.” There’s a smattering of acknowledgement from the other agents. Loki hangs back as they board the plane, then takes a spot in the last seat, by the door. None of them notice him, which is a relief. (Loki also hopes Tony doesn’t realize he’s gone; that would be an unpleasant conversation.)

The plane is worse than the car. It shakes and bounces and there’s four times where Loki can feel himself ready to vomit, but he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, willing his stomach to settle. He gets off the plane and has to lean against a pillar to calm his nerves. In doing so, he misses the archer’s instructions to his team, so instead, he follows the cloaked figure who must be “The Boss” into a massive building. It reminds Loki of the hall in which Tony took him to for the gala. He looks down at himself, and despite being unseen to the rest of the population, he feels he probably shouldn’t enter a building such as this one in his pyjamas. So, ducking behind one of the massive pillars, he disguises himself as a man with slicked back red hair and an elegant black suit. He enters the building behind the alien, who has cloaked himself with a spell of invisibility, although Loki is unfamiliar with the source. 

 

Loki hangs back as the alien, who he discovers is literally just named “The Other”, enacts his plan. He sips wine as The Other knocks several guests out with his scepter, and fixes his hair while The Other plunges some sort of device into a man’s eye, no doubt to grant access to the archer. He calmly exits the building amidst the screaming bunch of panicked Midgardians, keeping a close eye on The Other. It’s only when The Other flat-out blasts away a police car does Loki spring into action, shedding his disguise like it’s nothing and summoning his armour. His transformation gets little attention, even as his helm appears, because everyone’s in a rush to get away. (He’s only mildly disappointed by that.)

He sends out clones of himself to round up the humans and keep them from doing anything stupid. They all scream and some even start crying. Loki feels terrible, but he’s got a plan. “Please, please let us go,” one sobs, and Loki shushes him. “Quiet, mortal! I am here to help. Just play along. Say nothing, and you will be alright.” 

The Other stops in his tracks at the sight of the barrier of Loki clones. The real Loki, resplendent in his green and gold armour, strides forward, seidr at the ready. “I am Loki,” he declares, “Of Asgard. And I hear you have been searching for me.”

The Other, to Loki’s surprise, gets down on one knee. “My Master gifts this to you, and requests that you take your place at his side.” He offers up the scepter as though Loki is a king - a gesture that is not necessarily unwelcome, but certainly odd, especially coming from the alien who has killed several people in the last few days and in that time, hasn’t let anyone get this close. Loki snatches the scepter from The Other. It sends bolts of energy up Loki’s arms as he makes contact, and he feels his hair underneath his helm stand on end. He presses the end of the staff to the back of The Other’s neck, quick as a striking snake. “Stay down,” he hisses. “And whoever you are, whoever your master is, I will not join you. This is my home, these are my people. You have hurt them, and I will not allow you to cause any more harm. So either you surrender now, or I will be forced to send you back to your master squealing like the pig you are.”

The Other makes a noise that could be laughing, but also sounds like he’s trying to cough up a hairball. “You will join us in time, Son of Laufey. And we will wait.”

Loki growls and gives The Other a swift kick, sending him sprawling. He points the scepter at his throat. “I am no son of Laufey. I am Loki, son of none. The Liesmith. And I am a defender of this planet.”

The Other makes that noise again. “You will soon be its ruler,” he hisses. Loki silences him with a deft hit to the head from the scepter. The Other collapses to the pavement.  _ Pathetic,  _ Loki thinks, _ for a villain. He was not even a worthy opponent. _ He turns back to the assembled crowd. They all cower in his shadow, and for a split second, he feels  _ powerful _ . As if with a simple swipe of the scepter he now holds, he could get them all to kneel, to worship him like the god he should be. Like the god he  _ is.  _ He shakes the feeling off and dismisses the copies of himself in flashes of green light. “Go,” he says to the crowd. “Return to your families. Hold them close tonight, for you were close to never seeing them again.” 

They all scatter, and Loki smiles to himself. It feels good to be listened to. 

He walks over to the crumpled figure of The Other and pulls him to the stairs by his hood, taking pleasure in dragging The Other’s face over every rock and pebble in the square. He drops The Other at the bottom of the stairs, and then sits down and strips of his armour, so he’s sitting in his pyjamas again. Five minutes pass and a jet, similar to the one he came to Stuttgart in, swoops down from the sky, blowing dust and debris around the square. A man dressed in a rather ridiculous red, white, and blue uniform jumps out, holding a shield painted the same colours, with a large white star in the center. He surveys the scene with sky blue eyes only just visible through his helmet. “Agent Romanoff, I thought you said there was a disturbance?” 

The plane lands and a woman clad in a tight black jumpsuit exits. “I did. There was.” She locks eyes with Loki, sitting casually with an unconscious body next to him and holding the scepter. “Hello,” he says. “I took care of this for you. You’re welcome.”

Agent Romanoff opens her mouth, then closes it, at a loss for words. Loki grins. 

There’s a sudden, loud bang, which Loki recognizes as the acceleration noise for Tony’s suit. _ Shit,  _ he thinks, closing his eyes. 

“Agent Romanoff,” Tony says as he descends, “You turned the PA system off. I’ve never been more disappointed in you.”

“Tony,’ Agent Romanoff says, and Loki cracks a smile because oh, he  _ knows  _ that tone of voice. He’s used it, Pepper’s used it, even JARVIS has used it. It’s the “please stop talking, Tony, before I smack you” tone. “Natasha,” Tony replies. “So what’s going on- wait. Holy shit.  _ Loki? _ ”

“Hello, Anthony,” Loki says sweetly. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I...couldn’t sleep,” Loki replies, as if it were obvious. Tony flips open his faceplate. “So you did the one thing I asked you  _ not _ to do?” 

Loki shrugs. “I suppose you could say I learned from the best.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fucking hell, Lokes, you could have died.”   
“That’s unlikely.”

Agent Romanoff, or Natasha, as Tony called her, butts in. “Sorry, Tony, but who is this, exactly?”

“Hm? Oh. This,” Tony says to her, “Is Loki. My dumbass housemate.”

“And...what is he?” Natasha asks. “Not for nothing, but he’s...in his pyjamas. And he just took down our public enemy number one.” 

Loki tilts his head. “I think you shall soon see,” He says in a singsong voice, and stands up. The Other slumps over. “He’s all yours. Tony, shall we go?”

The first guy to appear, the one with the shield, is staring at Tony. “Are you Tony Stark?” He says, and sounds genuinely curious. “That’s me. And you’re Captain America. I thought you died, like, seventy years ago.” 

Captain America winces. “You could say it’s been a bit of a rough month for me.”

Tony grunts. “Yeah, same here.”

“Boys, I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got a ticking clock situation here,” Natasha says. 

“Right,” say the Captain. “Mr. Stark, nice to meet you.”

“And you, Captain. Loki! Bring that glow stick over here and let’s go.”

Natasha walks over and drags the unconscious form of The Other toward the plane. She stops before she gets in. “You boys coming? Fury will want to talk to you.” 

Loki rises and joins Tony. “I do not want to get into that thing again,” he whispers. Tony shoots him a look. “Did you take a fucking plane here?”

Loki smiles guiltily. “Perhaps. I apologize.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Lokes, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one of these days. Come on, it’s not smart to keep Fury waiting. Not that I care, I just don’t want him showing up at my house again.”

He walks off to join Natasha, followed begrudgingly by Loki. 

 

***

 

The plane ride is awkwardly silent. Natasha and her co-pilot don’t speak, not even to each other,  and Captain America - Steve, as he insisted they call him - stares dejectedly out the window. They’ve secured The Other onto one of the chairs, across from Loki, who eyes him warily. Tony paces the length of the plane, his heavy footfalls caused by the suit clanking against the metal floor. Loki distracts himself from the unconscious form of The Other by conjuring up a cooked package of instant noodles, which Tony had introduced to him during one of their late-night movie marathons. (“The nectar of the gods,” Tony had called it. Loki, who had tasted the real nectar of the gods, could agree.) He sits in silence, eating noodles with a pair of chopsticks for about seven minutes before Tony comes and sits beside him. “You should’ve told me you left,” he says. Loki glances at him. “You are not my father, Tony. You don’t need to be aware of my every move.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…” Tony heaves a sigh. “I was worried.”   
“About me? Anthony, I’m flattered.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “God, I hate you.”

Loki grins cheekily. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Tony concedes. Loki settles into his seat triumphantly. 

“Why are you eating noodles?” Tony asks. “And also, where did you  _ get _ noodles?”

“I’m a god, Tony. That entitles me to eating noodles whenever I damn well feel like it. And I summoned them.”

They both pause for a moment. “So what are you gonna do with that thing?” Tony points to the scepter, which is laying across the empty chairs beside Loki. Loki shrugs. “I was going to give it to you, to examine. You will need to find a way to reverse the effects on the agents.”

Tony bumps their shoulders together. “Look at you. Thinking of other people.”

“Shut up,” Loki complains. 

“Why do you even have it?” Tony asks, backtracking to the scepter. Loki grows uneasy. “He said...it was a gift. That his master wished for me to have it. It sounds like they want me to join their side.”

Tony’s quiet, thinking things over. “You’re not going to accept it, right?”

Loki gives him a look. “Obviously not, Anthony. I do not trust him, and I certainly do not wish to be a lieutenant to a madman, whoever this master may be.”

“Fair point. That’s good to hear.”

 

From his spot at the window, Steve is staring at the pair of them like they’re from another planet. Which, in Loki’s case, is true. Loki, sensing the captain’s gaze, meets his ice-blue eyes with his own green ones. Steve looks away, clearly unsettled. Loki smiles behind his styrofoam cup of noodles. “Hey, Lokes?” Tony speaks up.

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you a bit of a favour?”

Loki swallows a mouthful. “That depends on what it is.”

“When we get to S.H.I.E.L.D., can you...not be wearing your pyjamas? I mean you rock them, you’ve got hips that don’t lie, unlike the rest of you, but this is a top secret organization. They might judge you.”

Loki stares him dead in the eye as he shifts into a professional-looking suit. “Is this better?” 

“Much,” Tony says.

“Perfect. Then I will wear that once we get there. For now, though…” The suit disappears. “I am wearing these.”

Tony hears Steve snort quietly from his spot at the front window. Tony pats Loki on the shoulder and goes to join Steve. “So, Captain America, huh?” He says, crossing his arms. Steve looks at him with puppy dog eyes. “Yeah. You’re Howard’s son, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Tony says stiffly.

“You know, he, ah, worked with me. We were friends. Kind of.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “ _ Really?  _ Wow, I never would have known. It’s not like he didn’t bring it up every time we had guests over.”

Steve deflates. “You don’t sound happy I brought him up.”

“Yeah, no shit, Cap,” Tony snaps, then winces. “Sorry. He just...he wasn’t the greatest dad.”

“Oh.” Steve looks apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. He was a great guy, back when I knew him.”

“So everyone says,” Tony mutters. 

Steve clears his throat, clearly eager to change the subject. “So, what’s the story with him?” He glances at Loki. “Are you two…” He trails off, looking back at Tony. Tony’s eyes grow wide. “Together? No! He’s my friend. I kinda rescued him when he fell onto my beach. He’s a little quirky, little creepy, at times, but he’s a cool guy.”

“I’m sure,” Steve says slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe Tony. 

“What about you?” Tony asks. “How are you alive?”

A faraway look glosses over Steve’s eyes. “They dug me out of the ice. I’d been frozen.”

“Cryogenic freezing,” Tony murmurs. “Interesting. And how are you liking the twenty first century?” 

Steve hesitates. “It’s...different,” he admits. “A lot louder than I’m used to. Significantly more...open, when it comes to certain aspects.”

“Yeah, there’s loads of new shit,” Tony replies. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Steve responds, under his breath. 

A sudden tremor rocks through the jet. “Guys?” Natasha says from the pilot’s seat. “You might want to hold onto something. We’re about to fly into a storm, and it’s going to get real nasty.” Sure enough, as soon as she finishes speaking, heavy rain starts to batter the exterior of the jet. Tony looks out the front window to see massive storm clouds brewing, rolling over the jet until all they can see is grey. “Jesus,” Tony mutters. “Where did this storm come from?” 

“I do hope it is of Midgardian origin,” Loki says softly. Tony turns to see him standing up, facing the door. His hands are curled into tight fists, and he stands rigidly. Tony’s seen that posture enough to know that Loki is bracing for a fight. Frowning, Tony leaves Steve and comes up behind Loki. “Do you think this is Thor?” He asks quietly, to avoid being overheard by the others. Loki nods stiffly. “It would be just like my brother to show up like this.” 

“What’ll happen if it is him?”

Loki shakes his head. “I do not want to think of it.”

“I’m sure it’s just a bad storm,” Tony says, trying to calm his friend down. There’s a deafening  _ thud _ on the roof and Loki pales. “You were saying?” He hisses at Tony. 

“Woah, what was that?” Natasha says, alarmed. “Not sure,” Steve responds, concerned. He looks at Tony and they both don their helmets. Tony gestures for Loki to stay put as he strides toward the door, hitting the “open” button on the control panel. “Be careful out there!” Natasha shouts over the roar of the door. “I will be!” Tony shouts back. The door clunks to a halt and Tony has just enough time to see the dark, boiling storm before a figure with a red cape lands on the open door. Tony moves to intercept him, but Thor - it’s obviously him at this point, who else could it be - slams his hammer into him, sending Tony flying across the quinjet. Loki stands paralyzed in the center as his brother storms up to him and grabs him by the throat. “No, no, no, Thor, let me go,” he begs, and Tony can only watch helplessly as Thor drags Loki out of the quinjet, disappearing into the dark storm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh FYI if y'all want to contact me you can find me on Instagram my URL is @midgardianmischief   
> (If my Tumblr starts working again I'll put that up too)


	11. Shakespeare in the Park

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki reunites with Thor, and the Avengers gather for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known it's been awhile since I've seen The Avengers so I'm trying my best to keep this accurate

The passengers of the jet barely have time to register what’s happened before Tony’s launched himself out of the plane in pursuit of the two Asgardians. He hears Steve shouting after him, probably telling him to come back, but Tony doesn’t listen. All that matters is getting Loki back.

The clouds are thick and dark, almost impossible to see through. He has to use his targeting system to find Thor and Loki’s heat signatures, and even that takes him a while, because all the electricity in the air is causing the suit’s systems to go haywire. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters, desperately trying to lock onto the quickly disappearing figures of the Asgardians. The rain is pounding on the suit and Tony is well aware of the possibility of being struck by lightning. Flying in a metal suit during a massive thunderstorm is right up there on the list of “Dumb shit Tony Stark has done”.

_“Sir, might I suggest turning back? The storm appears to be getting worse.”_

“Shut up, JARVIS,” Tony snaps. “I’m not letting Loki get taken back to Asgard. He hates it there.”

_“Then may I suggest landing? You would have a higher probability of finding them on the ground.”_

Tony sighs. JARVIS has a point. He doesn’t even know which way the quinjet is. “Fine. Find me a place to land.”

_“Already doing so, sir.”_

 

For a split second, just after Thor jumped from the quinjet, Loki was sure Thor was going to drop him. He shouts and kicks at his brother, but Thor doesn’t free him. The cold rain soaks through Loki’s thin fleece pyjamas, leaving him sopping wet. His hair lays flat against his scalp, and he knows it’s going to be a nightmare when it dries.

They fly relatively blindly until a mountain appears out of the gloom. Thor streaks towards it, putting on speed. Loki lets out an indignant screech. “Put me _down,_ you blundering oaf!” Loki spits, catching Thor across the side of the head with the back of his hand. Thor sets down none too gracefully on a stone plateau, sending up a spray of rock. Loki stumbles out of Thor’s grasp and storms away. “By the Norns, Thor, you are _truly_ the worst. Why have you come? How did you find me?”

Thor sets Mjølnir down. “Brother, I have come to bring you back to Asgard. Heimdall saw you here only recently. We thought you _dead_ , Loki. We mourned you. Our father-”

“You mean _your_ father,” Loki snarls. “Odin did tell you of my true parentage, did he not?”

Thor shakes his head in dismissal. “We were raised together, Loki. We fought together. Do you remember none of that? Are you so quick to brush aside our childhood?”

Loki glowers at him. “I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you throwing me into the abyss. Why would I want to keep hold of that?

Thor cups Loki’s face in his hand like he did when they were children. “Loki, please. Give up this poisonous dream of yours. Come home.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Thor, do you believe that the trouble caused on Midgard is _my_ doing?”

Thor looks startled. “Is it not?”

“No, you fool!” Loki snaps. “And get off of me!” He wrenches Thor’s hand off of him. Thor furrows his brow. “Heimdall said he sensed your magic causing harm.”

“I helped _stop_ the chaos, Thor,” Loki huffs. “Not cause it. You have come all this way for nothing. Leave now. I do not wish to see you any longer.”

Thor’s blue eyes turn sad. “Please, brother. Mother mourns for you. Father regrets losing you. You do not have to exile yourself to Midgard in shame. You have been forgiven! Our people will- wait.” He frowns. “Brother, what are you wearing? Is this some sort of prison garb?”

Loki bursts out laughing. “Odin’s beard, Thor, you are the dullest creature in the nine realms. No, this is not a prison uniform.” He sniffs. “I was returning home from a mission, intending on sleeping.”

Thor still looks confused. “Loki, are you...living here? On Midgard?”

“And now you get it,” Loki says. He claps slowly. “Congratulations, Thor. You are almost as clever as me,” he deadpans.  
“I don’t understand,” says the prince. “You hated Midgard. What changed your mind?”

“Same as you, dear brother,” Loki says in a silky voice. “Love. And if I’m not mistaken, here he comes right...now.”

Loki steps back, a smug smile on his face. Thor looks befuddled for a moment, and then a streak of red and gold knocks him off the plateau, and Tony and Thor crash to the forest below. Loki, content, settles down on the plateau to watch.

 

Tony sends Thor flying, crashing into a nearby tree. Thor rises to his feet and dusts himself off. “Do not touch me again,” he warns, aiming Mjølnir at Tony. Tony flips up his faceplate. “Then don’t take my stuff,” he says, as if it were obvious to why he attacked Thor.

Thor growls. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Tony looks around. “Uh...Shakespeare in the park? Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?”

Thor takes a menacing step forward. “This is beyond you, metal man. Loki is of Asgard. He must return home to the halls of our father.”

“Y’know, from what I’ve heard, our beloved magician _really_ hates that place. So how about instead, I take him back home, and you can do what you’ve been great at since he arrived.” Tony flips the faceplate down. “Staying out of the way.” He turns to leave. “Asshole,” he mutters under his breath. Asgardians must have damn good hearing, because somehow Thor hears him and throws Mjølnir, smacking Tony backwards into a tree. Tony swears.

Thor summons Mjølnir again and starts spinning it. Tony clambers to his feet and fires the largest repulsor blast he can at Thor. The god is stumbles back as Tony flies at him, kicking him into a tree. Thor doesn’t stay down long, and he calls a lightning bolt from the sky. It hits Tony, sending him reeling.

 _“Power at four hundred percent capacity,”_ JARVIS says in Tony’s headset. “How about that?” Tony mutters. He fires again at Thor, who roars in outrage. They ready themselves and Tony has just enough time to think _I’m fucked_ before Thor is flying at him, and they’re crashing through the trees, bolts of lightning and beams of energy striking the two heroes. They come to a violent halt in a clearing. Tony throws a punch at Thor, who catches it with ease. Tony balks as Thor starts crushing the gauntlet as if it were little more than a tin can. Heart pounding, he fires one last shot at Thor’s face. When that does nothing, Tony shrugs and headbutts Thor as hard as he can. Thor just looks miffed, and returns the gesture with a headbutt that sends Tony sprawling. Tony rises again, shaking the spots from his vision. He’s about to attack Thor again when a shield - Steve’s, he realizes as it hits him - bounces across both their chest. Steve leaps down from a fallen tree and retrieves his shield. “Hey! That’s enough!”

Thor and Tony both regard him with annoyance. “Now I don’t know what you plan on doing here,” he says to Thor, whose grip on Mjølnir tightens. “I have come to bring my brother home,” he rumbles. Steve raises his hands slightly. “Okay. We can talk about that. Put the hammer down.”

“Uh, yeah! No! Bad call, he loves his hammer-!”

Thor smacks Tony to the ground with Mjølnir. “You want me to put the hammer down?” He growls, and leaps into the air. Steve raises his shield to protect himself, and when the two weapons connect, there’s a massive boom and a flash of light. All three of them are flung backwards. Tony spews a colourful array of swear words. They all clamber to their feet, wincing. “Are we done here?” Steve grumbles.

“I am,” Tony responds, and takes off before either of them can stop him.

 

Loki’s waiting for him on the plateau. As soon as Tony touches down, he springs to his feet. “Anthony,” he exclaims, relieved. “Are you alright?”  
Tony opens his faceplate. “Yeah, I’m good. Your adoptive brother packs one hell of a punch.”

Loki walks up to him and runs his thumb along a cut on Tony’s cheek. “He drew blood,” Loki comments. “But it’s not that bad.”

Tony shrugs. “I’ve had worse. What about you? Did he hurt you?”

Loki shakes his head. “No. Thor is just a naturally rough person. He meant me no harm. I am well accustomed to his strength. You may rest easy.”

Tony exhales, relieved. “So that’s Thor. He’s, ah…”

“Boorish, violent, and stupid? Yes.”

“...Pretty much what I expected.”

Loki laughs in agreement. “Well, Tony? How does it feel, having fought the crown prince of Asgard?”

Tony grins. “Like I could take on anything.”

 

The quinjet swoops down into the clearing below where the other two wait. “Ride’s here,” Tony says to Loki. “Guess we should go.”

 

***

 

Loki and Thor are avoiding each other. Or rather, every time Thor tries to move toward Loki, the latter makes an obvious move to do anything else. They’re all situated around a table, and Loki, now dressed in a neat black suit, is glowering at Thor from across the way. Tony’s not sure whether to be amused or on edge - the way Loki is staring daggers at his brother makes him think that if Thor says or does anything, those daggers will quickly turn physical.

Tony and Loki deliver the scepter to the lab aboard the helicarrier, where they meet Bruce Banner, to whom Tony quickly takes a liking to.

Loki feels rather out of place on the helicarrier, even with Thor there. By now, everybody’s heard what he did in Stuttgart, and to be regarded as a hero is something Loki is not familiar with. He stayed uncomfortably close to Tony during the whole tour, and now sits, perfectly poised, next to him as Fury explains what’s going on. Tony’s trying to ignore Thor’s icy stare, but it’s pretty hard to not feel the prince’s gaze boring into him. He shudders and forces his attention back to Fury, who’s launched into the details of the Tesseract. “If I may interject?” Loki pipes up. All eyes swivel to him. Loki holds his head up and continues. “With all due respect, Director, but what you are saying is incorrect. If you would allow it, may I share my knowledge of the cube?”

Fury scrutinizes him with his one good eye. “Fine. Go for it.”

Loki clears his throat. “Back in my younger years of study, I found record of six artifacts of immense power. They were created alongside the universe, and over the eons were lost in the far reaches of the galaxies. Each one of these artifacts, called infinity stones, controls a different aspect of the universe. I cannot recall which power corresponds to which stone, but what I can tell you is that the stones were hidden in different ways. Different forms. From the research given to Anthony, I have determined that this cube, this Tesseract, is, in fact, one of these stones. Which means that whomever is controlling The Other must not get their hands on it.”

“What makes you think somebody’s controlling him?” Natasha asks. Loki glances at her. “He as good as told me. You see, he informed me that his master wished for me to join his side. He was loyal to this nameless god, to the point where he truly believed that I would bend to his master’s will just by hearing about him.”

Fury regards Loki quizzically.  “And just who the hell are you, again?”

Loki bows his head in respect. “My name is Loki. I am a friend of Mr. Stark’s, and the God of Mischief.” To punctuate his statement, he throws a slight illusion over himself, his horned helm and leather armour briefly visible. Everybody except Tony and Thor looks shocked. Tony holds back a smile.

“When you say god of mischief, does that mean you’re-” Steve begins.

“The god The Other spoke of? Yes, Captain. He was searching for me.”

“And how do we know we can trust you?” Fury says warily. “Call me skeptical, but I’m having a damn hard time trusting anybody as of late.”

“I can vouch for him,” Tony says. He receives a few dubious looks from the others. “What? The guy’s saved my ass enough times for me to trust him a thousand times over.”

Loki throws him a grateful smile.

“I, too, can confirm Loki’s alliance,” Thor announces, earning him a startled look from both Loki and Tony. “Loki and I grew up together. He may not like to admit it, but we are brothers. He has fought by my side in many battles, and it is his wit that always ensures our victory.”

Fury considers this. “Fine. Welcome to the team, then. Just don’t fuck anything up.”

Loki smiles softly. “Thank you, Director. I will do my best to provide assistance to this team.”

Tony, despite trying his hardest to keep a straight face, breaks into a dorky grin. Banner sees him, and gives him a puzzled expression.

 

Tony coughs and looks away.

 

***

“I truly thought I had seen it all,” Loki says, hearing Tony approaching from behind. “Your suit is a work of art, but this…” He spreads his arms, gesturing to the ship they stand in. “You Midgardians are much more interesting than I was raised to believe.”

Tony snorts. “Well, you were around when we humans were still learning how to use fire, so I can see why you were told we needed your guidance.”

Loki bobs his head in contemplation. “Yes, that is true. I remember the first time Odin took Thor and I to Midgard. It was raining, and the humans looked upon Odin in amazement as he cleared the weather.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve ever asked you how old you are.”

“You have not,” Loki agrees. Tony stays silent, waiting for an answer. “Around fifteen thousand years old,” Loki answers finally. Tony sputters. “Fifteen _thousand_? Fucking hell! You look damn good, for an old man.”

Loki punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Oh, shut up. You are but a child, to me.”

Tony frowns. “Oh, right. Never thought of it that way.”

Loki smirks. “I can tell you are disheartened, but just know that age works differently on Asgard.” He pauses, thinking. “By our standards, I would be younger than you, give or take a few years.”

“Huh. I ever tell you that Asgardians are weird as hell?”

“I figured that out decades ago, Anthony. I did, after all, live with them.”

“Right, right. You’d know better than anybody.”

“Indeed.”

They fall silent, watching the clouds rush by under them through the huge windows. “Hey, Lokes?” Tony says quietly.

“Yes, Anthony?”

Tony clears his throat. “How are you doing? Now that Thor’s here and all.”

Loki sighs. “I have certainly been better. I wish he had stayed on Asgard, but…” He shrugs. “I will just do my best to stay out of his way.”

“Are you...gonna go back with him? Once this is all over?” Tony hates how timid his voice sounds, but Loki doesn’t mention it if he notices it at all. “Norns, no,” Loki snorts. “I would not go back even if Odin himself got down on his knees and begged. As far as I’m concerned, Midgard is my home now.”

Tony regards him with a surprised, adoring expression. “You’re kidding.”

“No, I don’t think I am. Now that I have lived here, I have seen the beauty of this planet. The kindness of its inhabitants. Yes, there are some things that need fixing, but that’s why they have people like you. Heroes.”

 _Fuck,_ Tony thinks. _He’s gone and made me melt again._ “Ah, I’m not that great,” he says aloud.

“I beg to differ,” Loki responds calmly. “You saved me, despite not knowing who I was. You gave up your enterprise after seeing the damage it did. You constantly risk your life to save others. You are a good man, Tony. And I hope one day you will see that.”

Without waiting for Tony’s response, Loki turns and strolls away. Tony watches him go, a smile playing at his lips. _Fucking gods and their ability to make me blush,_ he thinks.

 

***

 

The lab S.H.I.E.L.D. has supplied Tony with is, in all ways of the word, a playground. He happily chatters to Bruce about his assorted projects while running tests on the scepter Loki brought in. Bruce doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good listener.

It’s great, until Thor shows up outside the door.

“...And what was I supposed to do? Let him win? Obviously not! So I- oh. Uh, gimme a second, will you, Bruce?”

Bruce catches sight of Thor outside the lab. “Oh, dear,” he says. “This looks important. Yeah, go. I’ll be alright in here by myself.”

Tony gives him a thumbs up and goes to meet Thor in the hall. “What’s up, sparky?” He says flatly, crossing his arms. Thor sizes him up. “How close are you to my brother?” He says lowly. Tony raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“You and Loki. How close are you?” Thor repeats, louder this time. Tony blinks. “We’re friends. Why?”

“Do you have any intentions to bed him?” Thor demands, and Tony chokes. “ _What_ ? As in, like, sleep with him? Jesus Christ, _no._ ” _Yes_. “He’s just my friend, I swear. You don’t need to get all protective on me.”

Thor narrows his eyes. “Loki would suit you ill, Stark. He has a very particular taste in lovers, and you do not fit any of his criteria. If I find you making unwanted advances…” his voice drops to a threatening volume. “I will not hesitate to burn you from the inside out.”

Tony gulps. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” he assures Thor. The Asgardian presses Mjølnir to Tony’s chest. “You have been warned.” He thunders, then moves Mjølnir away and claps Tony on the shoulder. Tony almost buckles under the weight. “You seem like a good man, Anthony Stark. I look forward to fighting alongside you in the battle to come.”

He beams at Tony and then strolls away, tossing Mjølnir into the air like it weighs nothing. Tony almost faints.

 

“What’d Thor want?” Bruce asks when Tony returns to the lab. Tony leans against a table. “He basically said that if I banged his brother he’d turn me into a human bonfire,” he tells Bruce. Bruce stares at him. “Pardon me?”

“That’s what I thought!” Tony says, waving his hands for emphasis. “He thought Lokes and I were sleeping together. Which is ridiculous.”

“Uh huh,” Bruce says, typing away at his computer. Tony pinches the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t even been here a day and I’m already stressed.”

“I get you,” Bruce replies. “Did Loki mention knowing anything about the scepter’s powers?”

“Nope,” Tony answers. “I don’t think he even used it. Unless you count bashing someone over the head with it.”

Bruce frowns. “I don’t know how we’ll be able to reverse the damage this thing does. There must be a way, but this technology is unlike anything I’ve ever worked with.”

“It’s magic,” Tony says simply. “I know, sounds crazy, but after three months of living with a god you tend to believe in shit like that. We just need to be able to work out how this magic functions.”

“You think your magician pal would be able to help out with that?”

Tony nods. “Probably. Want me to go grab him?”

“Go for it.” Bruce waves him off and Tony leaves the lab again, this time searching for Loki. (He doesn’t like having to search the ship; he’s used to being able to call out and get a quick response.)

 

Loki’s on the bridge, hunched over a screen. Tony sits next to him and nudges his arm away to see what he’s watching so intently. “What’s on TV?” he asks. Loki sits up. “I am trying to figure out why this alien wants me in particular. Why he gave _me_ the scepter. And how he knew I was here.”

Tony looks down at the screen to see the security footage of The Other, standing still as a statue in his cell. “Good questions to ask. Hey, I was wondering if you could come take a look at the scepter? Bruce and I are getting nowhere.”

Loki dips his head and pushes away from the table. “With pleasure. I need to distract myself, anyways.”

They leave the bridge together, heading back toward the lab. “So your brother just accosted me in the hallway,” Tony informs him. Loki stops in his tracks. “He did _what_? Why?”

“Apparently he thought I had plans to, and I quote, “bed you”.”

Loki puts his face in his hands. “Thor thought we are sleeping together?”

“Yep,” Tony confirms. “Don’t worry, I told him off. And by that I mean I almost fainted. But he won’t ask again.”

Loki groans. “Even after I have as good as disowned him, he still finds it his duty to protect me.”

“He loves you,” Tony says as they start walking again. “He doesn’t care that you hate him. In his eyes, you’re still his baby brother.”

“I am aware,” Loki sighs. “I don’t think he will ever _not_ see me as his brother.”

“He won’t,” Tony assures. “But that’s not a bad thing.”

“Maybe not,” Loki replies, quietly.

 

Bruce doesn’t look up when they enter. He’s engrossed in some sort of calculations, and only gives a slight twitch of his hand in acknowledgement. Loki makes a beeline for the scepter. “This is an odd weapon,” he murmurs. “It is made of magic, but of a magic older than most. I cannot place where it originates from.” Loki trails delicate fingers over the blades. “This stone, in the center. I believe it is the source of the power. It speaks to me, but not in any language. It’s more...a feeling.”

Bruce looks up from his work and shares a nervous glance with Tony. Loki pays them no regard as he lifts the scepter from its stand. “Fear not,” he says to the two men. “I am only examining it.” He turns the scepter over in his hands, admiring the craftsmanship. “It is a new weapon,” he observes. “Made for a king. Built to intimidate, to subjugate. It was not created for a creature such as The Other.”

“What can you tell us about how it affects the mind?” Bruce asks. Loki hums and taps the blue stone. “This gem holds a condensed mind spell of some sort. It is old magic; I cannot decrypt it. It is more powerful than anything I have read about, and certainly more powerful than any spell I have used. If it is used upon someone, they lose all free will. They live only to serve the person who wields this spear. But, because it is a spell, there must be a way to counter it. I can try to study it and find the counter spell, but it will take time, which I am afraid we do not have much of. Until then, you two ponder this question: how do you fix something that isn’t broken?”

Loki places the scepter back in its stand. “I will see what I can do. Tony, you know where to find me. Bruce, lovely to make your acquaintance.” He sweeps out of the room without another word.

“Gonna be honest,” Tony says to Bruce once Loki is out of earshot, “I have absolutely no idea where to find him.”

 

***

 

Something is weighing on Loki’s mind. He can’t get the memory of The Other kneeling down in front of him out of his head, presenting him with the scepter as though it was made for him. And then there was this mysterious unnamed master, who for some reason wanted Loki to join him.

Loki can’t fit the pieces together. But he knows someone who can.

He takes the form of one of the agents he saw speaking with Director Fury, a young woman with dark hair. Loki makes his way down to the cell, hoping nobody catches on to his disguise, or worse, that he doesn’t run into the actual agent.

There’s only one person standing guard, which Loki finds a bit odd. As he gets closer, he realizes it’s the same agent who stopped by Stark Tower. _Coulson,_ Loki remembers.

“Maria,” he greets as Loki approaches. _Ah, so that’s her name,_ he thinks. “Coulson,” Loki says, in the voice of Maria Hill. “Fury requested I speak to the prisoner.”

Coulson frowns. “He didn’t tell me.”

Loki shrugs Maria’s shoulders. “You know how he is.”

“Yeah, I do. Call me if you need anything.”

Coulson moves out of the way and allows Loki to enter the cell room. He glances around, finding all the security cameras. Loki presses a hand to the door he just entered through and seals it using magic, then sheds his disguise. “Hello again,” he greets, gliding toward the glass cell. “I have some questions for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki Laufeyson: God of Chaos, Mischief, Lies, and really terrible ideas.


	12. What's His Play?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ell: Queen of wildly inconsistent chapter lengths.

The Other turns his head as Loki approaches. He stands still in his cell. Loki advances slowly, the soles of his leather shoes gently padding across the floor. The Other’s gaze follows him as he moves. Loki shudders inwardly. “Son of Laufey. I was expecting you.” The Other’s voice rings out in the massive chamber, somehow overpowering the steady thrumming of the propellers.

Loki refrains from biting out a retort. “Good,” he says instead. “Then you know what I wish to know.”

“You want to learn the name of who we serve,” The Other says. “The name of who _you_ serve,” Loki corrects. “You are so sure I will join you. Why?”

The Other takes a step toward the glass. “Your heart is treacherous, Asgardian. You deny it now, but deep down inside you, you long for a throne.”

Loki shakes his head. “I have never _truly_ wanted to be king. You assume only what you wish to see. I have no desire to rule.”

The Other spreads his hands. “Son of Laufey, be reasonable. My master can give it all to you - your throne, your kingdom, the one you love.”

“What do you mean, the one I love?” Loki retorts. The Other laughs. “I see your heart, Son of Laufey. The man of iron. You long for him, but he believes you see him only as a friend. And you believe he will perish should you take his hand. But fear not, for my master can ensure no harm will ever come to him. You can rule over Midgard together. All you must do is bring my master the Tesseract.”

Loki slams a fist against the glass. “You leave Anthony out of this,” he growls. “You know nothing of him.”

The Other begins to pace. “It is foolish to think you can prevent this. Submit now, and it will be much easier.”

Loki backs away from the cell. “Who is this master you keep speaking of?”

The Other cackles. It’s a vile sound that makes Loki cringe. “The only master,” The Other utters. “Thanos, the mad titan!”

Loki’s blood runs cold. “Thanos. I have heard that name before,” he mutters. The Other bares its teeth in a disgusting smile. “Many have. Many fear him.”

Loki starts to pace. “Why me? I am but a loose thread in the fabric of the universe.”

The Other purrs in agreement. “You are willing to learn. You are ambitious, and you are powerful. Thanos will rule the universe, someday soon. And you, Master Loki, will be at his side! Bring him the Tesseract, and Thanos will grant you unimaginable power!”

Loki turns away from the cell. “You are mad to think I will join forces with that monster. He brings only death and destruction.”  
“And is that not what you want?” The Other hisses. “To bring ruin upon those who have wronged you?”

Loki clenches his fists. “You assume too much of me. The hate I have for my adoptive family and my home planet does not burn inside me. I would sooner die alone in the abyss than join your insane cause.”

The Other retreats from the glass. “You will join us, whether you mean to or not.”

Loki spins around. “Are you threatening me?” He demands. The Other paces the length of the cell. “I am stating the truth. It has already begun.”

Loki has a flashback to Stuttgart, when he took hold of the scepter. He remembers the feeling that pulsed through his veins, filling him with raw, untamed power. His legs nearly give out at the memory. “What have you done to me?” he says in a hushed voice. “I have made you _see,_ ” The Other jeers. “And now, I will make you _obey._ ”

He slams his hand against the glass. Loki’s eyes go wide, seeing the blue glow in The Other’s hand. The light drifts through the glass, slithering toward Loki like snakes. “What is that?” He shouts, scrambling away. “Keep it away!”

The Other just laughs as the light swirls around Loki. He frantically tries to blast it back with spells of his own, but it overpowers him, wrapping round his wrists like puppet strings. “It is pointless to struggle,” The Other advises. “Give up, and become part of Thanos’s great rule.” Loki collapses, heaving. “You...won’t...win,” he hisses through gritted teeth before falling slack against the floor. He twitches as the magic is absorbed into his bloodstream. He sits up. The Other surveys the god from under his hood. “Are you ready to join us?” He purrs. Loki stands, suit dissolving into his armour. His helm shimmers into existence, golden horns curving up toward the ceiling. Loki smiles darkly, light reflecting off his sharp blue eyes. “Thanos will have the Tesseract,” he assures The Other. “And I will have my throne.”

 

***

 

Tony runs into Loki as he comes out of The Other’s cell room. “Loki!” He exclaims. “What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you,” Loki responds. “I thought you might have been interrogating him. But you weren’t.”

Tony frowns, seeing Loki’s shaken expression. “Lokes, you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Loki waves a hand. “The Other is just...unnerving. He knows things he shouldn’t about me.”

“Did he tell you anything we useful?”

Loki shakes his head. “No. Just senseless blather about the end of times. Where were you headed?”

“Nowhere in particular. Bruce and I are getting nowhere with the scepter and I needed a break.” He massages his temples. “So much shit is happening. It’s hard to keep on track.”

Loki smiles sympathetically. “This will all be over soon,” he says in a comforting voice. “And then we can go back to Stark Tower and eat noodles while watching those strange movies you like so much.”

“God, I love you,” Tony says before he can stop himself. Loki grins. “And I know you well, Anthony. Have you made any progress on the scepter?”

“No,” Tony repeats. “It’s frustrating.”  _Was he not listening?_ He wonders, having just told Loki that he and Bruce had come to a standstill. 

“I have faith in you,” Loki says smoothly. “You will find what you’re looking for.”

The pair walks back to the bridge together. The agents they pass on the way pay them no regard, which lets Tony ease up on how secretive he’s being. He’s with Loki, after all. The guy knows basically everything about him. He has nothing to fear. “So how are you enjoying your first superhero mission?” Tony jokes. Loki chuckles. “It is certainly an adventure. Although I am not sure I can be classified as a “hero”, Tony.”

Tony pats him on the shoulder. “Nonsense,” he says. “You saved those people in Stuttgart. They could’ve died. But because of you, they’ll live to tell the story of how some dude in reindeer antlers saved them. That makes you a hero.”

“They’re _not_ reindeer antlers,” Loki sniffs.

“Well, it’s either I call them antlers or make a horny joke. Your pick.”  
Loki cuffs Tony over the head. “Remind me again why I didn’t just stab you back when we met?”

“Because of my dashing good looks and astonishing smarts,” Tony replies breezily. Loki rolls his eyes. “I doubt it was that.”

And then it’s silent.

Tony feels himself be slammed against a wall, and watches as Loki hits the ground next to him. A white-hot light burns bright through the hall. Heat scorches Tony’s face and he rolls onto his stomach to try and escape it. Sounds comes slowly, then all at once. Alarms are blaring, red lights pulsing in the now dark hallway. Tony’s ears are ringing.

“..ny? Tony!”

Tony becomes aware of someone shaking him. He pushes himself up with his arm. Loki’s kneeling over him. His green eyes are blown wide in fear. There’s a ghastly cut in his hairline, trickling blood down his face, bright red against pale skin. “Anthony, are you alright?” He’s saying. Tony shakes his head in an attempt to clear the fuzziness that has settled upon it. “What just happened?” Tony groans. “Explosion,” Loki answers. He gathers Tony up in his arms - _ooh, strong,_ Tony thinks giddily - and hauls him to his feet. He throws Tony’s arm over his shoulders to help him walk. Smoke starts to fill the hallway, and Tony starts to cough. Agents are running about, shouting to one another. “Stark!” A voice calls. It’s Coulson, jogging down toward them. “Are you alright?”

Tony nods weakly. “Just a little disoriented. What’s happened?”

“We’re under attack,” Coulson coughs. “They’ve taken out one of the propellers.” Right on cue, the helicarrier starts listing dangerously to the side. Tony throws an arm out to steady himself. “Shit! Lokes, this thing is gonna go down unless I can fix the propeller,” Tony realizes.

Loki nods. “I can get you there. Where’s your suit?”

“Armoury,” Tony answers.

“You two be careful,” Coulson warns. “There’s intruders on the ship.”

“Perfect,” Loki says drily. “You get your suit. I will protect the scepter.”

“You think whoever’s attacking us is searching for it?”

“Almost certainly,” Loki confirms. “I assume it is the brainwashed agents; I’ll be able to hold them off. Find the Captain. Save this ship.”

Tony nods. “Kick whoever’s ass you need to to keep that glowstick safe. I’ll meet you on the bridge when this is all over.”

Loki dips his head. “See you then. And Tony?”

“Yeah?”

Loki squeezes Tony’s hand. “Be safe. If it gets too dangerous, get out of there. Alright?”

“Lokes, I have to save-”

“Tony.” Loki grabs him by the shoulders. “Please.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll be careful.”

Loki releases him and watches as he runs off to the armoury. He lets his guise fall away, settling back into his armour with a contented hum. His eyes flicker and the illusion cast over them vapourizes. Green turns back to blue, and Loki smiles, as cold as the icy gaze of his eyes. Pushing through the crowded halls, he makes his way to the lab to meet his men.

 

***

 

It takes Tony twenty minutes to fix the propeller, even with Steve’s help. His armour is messed up and his back is killing him from getting thrown into the world’s largest blender, but at least everybody on board should be safe. The alarms are still blasting when he gets back inside. Tony steps gingerly over the bodies in the service hallway and runs back into the fray. There’s more bodies on the floor. Tony’s relieved to see some of them still moving. He blasts an attacker away from the armoury door and keeps moving through. He runs into Maria Hill, who’s crouched behind a supply crate, talking into her com. Tony ducks down beside her. “What’s the situation?”

“Coulson’s not picking up,” she replies, worried. “Thor’s MIA. Thanks to you we’re stable, but Hulk’s gone rampant after the blast and Agent Romanoff is headed down to face Barton.”

“One of the brainwashed agents, I presume?”

“Yeah. He led the attack.”

“Okay.” Tony looks over the top of the crate. The hall is clear. “I’ll try and track down Coulson. I saw him not too long ago; he might be pinned down by gunfire somewhere.”

Maria nods. “Copy that. Search for Thor too. We’re going to need him.”

Tony gives her a thumbs up and leaps over the crate, cautiously making his way down to the lab. Broken wiring spits sparks at him and red lights pulse.

 

There’s a pile of bodies outside of the lab. _Loki,_ Tony thinks, and sprints to the door. He bends down to examine them. It’s hard to tell whose side they were on, so Tony just hopes they weren’t on his. A groan from inside the lab pulls Tony’s attention away from the fallen soldiers. He readies his gauntlet and enters. The lights inside are flickering, and scorch marks score the white walls. The screens are shattered and broken beakers cover the floor. There’s a man slumped against the far cabinet. A smashed communication device lays nearby. Tony rushes over and kneels at the man’s side. He realizes who it is with a jolt. “Coulson?” He gasps, pulling off his helmet. Coulson just manages to turn his head to look at Tony. “Tony,” he rasps. “He took...the scepter...don’t….trust him…” he breaks off coughing, blood bubbling at his lips. “Hey, hey, stay with me Phil, come on. Who took the scepter?”

Coulson closes his eyes. “Lo…” he murmurs. “What?” Tony says. “Lok...Loki,” Coulson wheezes. “Tried to stop him. Sorry.”

Tony’s brain goes into slow motion. He watches, horror struck, as Coulson takes one last shuddering breath and goes limp. Blood drips down his chest from a ragged puncture wound. Tony falls back. “Fuck,” he gasps, feeling panic start to build in his chest. “Fuck, oh god, no, this can’t be happening.”

He scrambles to find his helmet and jam it back on. “This is Stark,” he says into the com. “Coulson is down. He’s...he’s gone. The scepter’s been taken. Keep an eye out for-”

“Hello, Tony,” a familiar voice hums. Tony freezes. He turns slowly to see Loki towering above him, bloodied scepter in hand. “It would be wise of you to stop that transmission.”

“Loki,” Tony chokes out, “What have you done?”

Loki’s eyes glitter. “What I had to do. He stood in my way.”

“He was my friend,” Tony spits. Loki lifts his head with the point of the scepter. “Am I not your friend? Can you not see I did this for the greater good?”

“How is this the greater good?! You killed a man, Loki, Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Anthony, my dear Anthony,” Loki chides. “This world is weak. It needs someone who can build it up to its true potential.”  
“And you think that’s you?” Tony demands. Loki squats down in front of him. “I _know_ it’s me. I was born to be a king. And I will take my throne upon Midgard. You can either help me, or…”

“Or you’ll kill me?”

Loki smiles coldly. He raises a hand and cups Tony’s face in it, running his thumb along Tony’s lips. “Such a pretty face,” he murmurs. “You could rule alongside me, Anthony. All you have to do is obey.”

“You’re sick,” Tony says, voice trembling. “Put down the scepter, Lokes. Let me help you.”

Loki snarls, his ice blue eyes flashing. _Wait a minute,_ Tony thinks, narrowing his eyes. _Loki’s eyes are green, not blue. Meaning…_ “You’ve been brainwashed, Lokes. This isn’t you! Please, just _listen to me._ ”

Loki stands up. “You disappoint me, Stark. I advise you to reconsider.” He sweeps out of the room and Tony keels over onto the floor, shaking.

 

***

 

“Play it again,” Tony orders. He’s pacing the floor of the bridge. The attack is over, and they’ve all suffered. Thor was tricked by Loki and got launched out of the helicarrier in The Other’s cell. Bruce Hulked out and fell out of the sky when he attacked a fighter jet. Steve escaped fairly unscathed, but with his fair share of bruises and cuts. Natasha has a cut lip and bruised knuckles, but seems okay otherwise. Clint, the archer who was brainwashed by The Other, got knocked upside the head and has rejoined Natasha. He looks awkward as he sits among the people he just attacked.

They found The Other gutted on the floor of the hangar. Clearly, Loki had had enough of him and decided he could go on alone.

Fifty bodies go to the morgue, including Coulson’s. Tony was there when they’d removed his body, hidden under a white sheet.

Now, the survivors have regathered on the bridge to discuss their next move. Fury is adamant Loki be brought to justice, but Tony is convinced Loki’s under the scepter’s spell.

“Tony-” Natasha starts, but Tony cuts her off with a clench of his fist. “I’m serious. Play it again.”

Fury sighs and rewinds the video footage taken from The Other’s cell. The audio is gone, but they can see Loki get into what appears to be a heated argument with The Other. “There, see?” Tony pauses it and zooms in on The Other’s hand. “Blue light. Just like the scepter. The Other must’ve, I dunno, stored some excess magic or something. Loki wouldn’t just go crazy like that. I know him. He’s my friend.”

“If I may,” says Clint, speaking up for the first time since his arrival. “Director Fury, sir, I know what it’s like to be under that spell. It makes you do some crazy shit. I’m with Stark. This Loki guy is a victim, just like I was. You’re all so quick to forgive me, when I was the one who got us into this mess in the first place.”

“Clint, that’s different,” Natasha interjects.

“Is it?” Clint responds. “I think we should give Loki the benefit of the doubt.”

Fury exhales, visibly annoyed. “I can understand your reasoning, Barton, but brainwashed or not, Loki’s just stolen a powerful weapon from right under our noses and killed one of my best agents in cold blood. We have to stop him from using the Tesseract, and we have to do it soon.”

Tony feels like punching something. He mutters an insult under his breath and stalks off, leaving the others to deal with Fury’s’ lecture by themselves.

 

He stops outside the lab, where Coulson’s blood is still dried on the floor. He has a horrible image in his head, of Loki killing him. Had he done it in the spur of the moment? Did he regret it? Was there any part of Tony’s Loki left in him?

Tony doesn’t know, and it hurts.

It hurts a lot.

 

It’s a sort of pain that starts out numb, but then roars to life in a burning fire that chokes Tony up.

“Fuck it,” he says out loud, “I’m gonna fix this.”

He goes to retrieve his busted up armour. He’s putting on his helmet when he runs into Steve on his way to the hangar. “Where are you going?” The captain asks. “Away,” Tony says sullenly. “Fury’s not listening to me, and I’m not going to hang around while he blows up my friend. I know where I’ll be able to find him.”

Tony pushes past Steve, heading to the doors. “Tony, wait,” Steve calls after him. “Not interested in your “for America” talk, Rogers,” Tony snaps over his shoulder.

“I was going to say you don’t have to go alone,” Steve says. Tony turns to see Clint and Natasha standing beside Steve in full combat gear. “We’re a team now,” Nat says. “And we’ll stick together. Where you go, we go.”

Tony’s lips twitch up in a smile. “Does Fury know about this?”

Clint shrugs. “Since when did we ever tell him what we’re doing? It’s more fun this way. C’mon, we don’t have much time.”

Everyone except Tony piles into a quinjet, and they all take off. Fury, from the bridge, watches them go with a grudging smile.

 

***

 

The Tesseract is in position. Loki felt that putting it atop Stark Tower was almost poetic, in its own way. He leaves Selvig on the roof to activate the portal and goes down to the living area. It’s strange, he thinks, that only yesterday he was enjoying a drink with Anthony in this very room. _How naive I was,_ Loki muses. _It’s a shame Anthony was too close minded to see how badly this world needs me._

He drifts over to Tony’s landing platform and looks out across the landscape of New York.

Smiling, Loki turns to gaze up at the roof as a beam of light shoots up toward the sky, ripping a hole into the blue as if it were paper. “Soon you will understand, Anthony,” Loki murmurs. “I am doing this for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare for,,,angst


	13. Come Back Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The invasion begins. Loki and Tony meet in Stark Tower, resulting in an unexpected outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This chapter is very angsty! Like, it physically hurt to write! So...read at your own discretion, I guess?

New York is in chaos by the time the Avengers show up. Swarms of aliens swoop between the buildings, blasting away anything and anyone that gets in their way. Civilians are screaming and running about, trying to find shelter. First responders are doing their best to protect the citizens, but their pistols do almost nothing against the armoured aliens, who stream from a massive portal hovering above Stark Tower. “ _Well, now we know why he wanted the Tesseract_ ,” Steve says over the coms.

“On my tower? Really?” Tony huffs.

“ _Don’t think that’s what you should be worried about_ ,” says Natasha. Tony locks his targeting system onto the horde of aliens pouring out from the portal. “I’m gonna go try and take some of those fuckers out. You guys take the ground. Get civilians out. That’s our main priority.”

“ _Copy that_ ,” Natasha replies. “ _Be careful up there_.”

Tony grunts in response and shoots up toward the portal. He fires as many repulsor blasts as he can and sends out a flock of mini-explosives that takes out several soldiers. “Take that, you creepy bastards,” he mutters.

By now, the Chitauri have noticed him and are opening fire. Tony manages to elude most of them, but gets hit in the back by a blast that sends him careening off track. He retaliates by having JARVIS boost his gauntlet power, and practically disintegrates the attacker. The broken glider spins out of control and crashes into an already partially destroyed building, where it explodes in a plume of fire.

The Chitauri are practically endless and Tony has no idea how long he’s been up there, blasting away at the invaders. He eventually stops, growing tired, and flies away from the portal. “I’m not getting anywhere up here,” he reports to the rest of his team. “What’s the situation where you guys are?”

“ _Messy,_ ” Clint says. “ _Both on our side and theirs._ ”

“That’s what I thought. How many casualties?”

“ _I’ve counted thirteen civilians and twenty officers,_ ” Clint answers. “ _It’s not looking good._ ”

“ _It’s gonna get a whole lot worse unless we can close that portal,_ ” Steve intervenes. “ _Stark, what does it look like up there?_ ”

Tony shoots down a Chitauri who gets too close. “Portal’s guarded. Some sort of energy beam; I shot at it, it didn’t do shit.”

Steve curses. “ _There has to be_ some _way to shut it down._ ”

“I’ll try and find one, but it’s pretty high tech. I’ll keep you updated.”  
Tony flies back to the tower, landing on the roof. A man - Doctor Selvig, Tony recognizes - is lying unconscious on the gravel, probably thrown backwards from the power surge that occured when the Tesseract was activated. “Alright, J, show me the logistics.”

JARVIS scans the generator. _“All components apart from the Tesseract are of human creation. I’ve detected traces of Mr. Loki’s magic, which alludes to the possibility he helped put it together. There is a weak point in the shield to the North West, but not weak enough to allow a shut down.”_

“Well, that’s just great,” Tony grumbles. “Any way to block the transmission?”

_“No, sir. Anything that comes into contact with the energy from the Tesseract will be obliterated.”_

“Christ,” Tony groans. “Yeah, Cap, it’s a no-go on the portal. It’s impenetrable.”

Cap’s response is lost in a loud, earth-moving roar that emanates from the portal.  
“JARVIS,” Tony says slowly, turning his head to look up. “What was that?”

_“I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. But you may want to get out of the way.”_

As soon as JARVIS finishes speaking, the head of a gargantuan monster appears in the pitch-black depths of the portal. “What the _fuck_ is that thing?” Tony screeches, and dives off the roof. “Guys? Yeah, hi, we’ve got a problem!”

“ _No kidding_ ,” Clint says. “ _These assholes are_ everywhere _. You kill one and it’s like it fuckin’ multiplies._ ”

“Not what I meant!” Tony shouts, speeding across the city. “Look up!”

“ _Oh, what the_ fuck _,_ ” Clint exclaims.  
“ _Mother of God_ ,” Steve whispers.

“ _Shit_ ,” says Natasha.

 

Tony ducks behind a building as the monster fully exits the portal, moving through the air as though it’s swimming. “Jarv, just how tough is that thing?”

_“My calculations indicate that its armour is much too tough to cut through. We would need substantial force.”_

“Hey Cap?” Tony asks into his headset.

“ _Stark?_ ” Steve answers.

“Any sign of Thor or Banner?”

“ _Not yet_ ,” Steve replies. There’s a crashing noise on his end that can only mean he’s attacking something. Tony groans. “Alright, J, looks like we’re taking this thing on alone. Guys, I’m gonna need your help. ”

He darts out from behind the building and fires a missile at the leviathan. It explodes as it hits the creature’s head, and as expected, does jack shit. It does, however, make it mad, and lock onto Tony as its next target.  
“Great!” Tony mutters to himself. “J, full power on the thrusters. And quick.”

He zips off, leviathan in hot pursuit. “Somebody _please_ tell me Thor’s showed up,” he says into the coms. “ _No sign of Thor, but Banner just showed up_ ,” Natasha says.

“Thank fuck,” Tony says in relief. “Tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you.”

He rounds the corner and catches sight of the Avengers - minus Thor - gathered on the street, gaping at the creature chasing Tony. “I don’t...see how that’s a party,” Natasha says meekly. “Somebody get this fuckin’ thing off my tail before I’m eaten by a space fish!” Tony shouts.

“On it,” says Banner. He strides past the other Avengers and they all watch as he shifts into the Hulk just as the leviathan swoops down. Hulk stops it head-on and the thing careens over itself, armour ripping into its own skin. “Yes!” Tony cheers to himself, and fires another missile at the tear in its flesh. The leviathan goes down with a chilling roar. “Fuckin’ hell, that was intense,” Tony breathes. “Thanks, guys. Steve, you got a plan?”

“Working on it,” Steve replies. “Clint, can you get up somewhere high and pick off the fliers?”

“If I can get a ride,” Clint says.

“Great. Nat, stay on the ground with me. Like Stark said, civilians are our first priority.”

“Understood.”

“Stark, keep doing what you’re doing, and maybe try to find a way to close the portal.”

“Planned on it,” Tony replies.

“And Hulk?”

Hulk grunts. Steve points at him. “Smash.”

The Hulk grins menacingly and takes off down the street. The ground shakes under his footfalls.  
“Well, that was horrifying,” Tony announces. “Clint, you good?”

Clint adjusts his quiver. “Yep.”

“Alright, then. Better clench up, Legolas,” Tony says, and snatches Clint up off the ground. He deposits the archer on a rooftop. Clint sticks the landing with a perfectly executed roll. “Okay, you good here?”

Clint gives him a thumbs up. “Perfect.”

Tony salutes in response and shoots off again.

 

The battle rages on and on. Tony stays in the sky as much as he can, stopping the Chitauri before they can get to the ground. He catches sight of Steve ushering civilians into makeshift safehouses and working with the police officers to evacuate buildings. Natasha is kicking ass on the ground while Clint shoots arrow after arrow from the rooftops. They’re apart but somehow still managing to work in unison - Clint will take down a glider and Natasha will swiftly slit the throats of the Chitauri as soon as they’re in range. In the distance, Hulk is causing a ruckus, slamming Chitauri this way and that. At some point - Tony wasn’t paying attention to when -, the army shows up. New York is quickly turned into a battlefield as explosions rattle the buildings and gunshots ring out through the air.

 

Tony’s headset crackles and Steve’s voice comes in through the static. “ _Stark, Thor’s been spotted_ ,” he shouts. “Took him long enough,” Tony grumbles.

There’s a loud blast on Steve’s end and Tony flinches. “- _Central Park!_ ” Steve yells, before being cut off by another explosion.

“ _Er, Tony?_ ” Natasha cuts in.  
“Yeah?”

“ _He’s fighting Loki._ ”

 

Tony stops mid-air. “Copy that,” he says hoarsely, and changes direction. Sure enough, flashes of blue magic and lightning are destroying Central Park. The Asgardians are in the thick of it, toe-to-toe with each other. Loki ducks out of the way of Thor’s attack and blasts his adoptive brother with energy from the scepter, knocking the blond god away several feet. Thor hits a tree and the thing topples as if it weighs nothing. They charge at each other and their weapons clash, which creates a noise so loud Tony can hear it over the explosions and gun blasts. Thor knocks Loki’s scepter out of the way and starts doing some rather animated hand gestures. Tony’s too far away to hear them properly, but it’s clear Thor is trying to get through to his brother. Loki gets particularly agitated at something Thor must’ve said, because he slams his scepter against the ground an an army of clones fan out around the two. “Fuck me,” Tony whispers. “That’s amazing.”

“ _Tony, who the hell are you talking to?_ ” Clint’s voice says.  
“ _Yeah, please don’t start flirting with anyone on the battlefield_ ,” Natasha pipes up.

“No, just-” Tony sighs. “Loki.”

“ _Is that supposed to be better?_ ” Clint says, confused. “ _Are you planning on making him stop this shit by sleeping with him?_ ”

“Can it, Robin Hood,” Tony snaps.

“ _Oh my god, he’s gonna fuck the enemy,_ ” Clint snorts.

“ _Clint,_ ” Steve warns.

“ _I’m not saying it’s a_ bad _plan! Just unexpected!_ ”

Tony turns off his coms.

 

Back in the park, Thor’s still trying to figure out which of the clones is his brother. He’s not having any luck, so Tony heaves a sigh and flies down to help. _Can’t believe I’m gonna save this guy’s ass,_ he thinks. “Stark!” Thor proclaims in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping,” Tony responds flatly, and fires a blast at one of the clones. It flickers away, leaving a break in the ranks. The remnants of the repulsor beam hits a tree, which burns up and crashes to the ground. _“You shouldn’t be here, Anthony,”_ all of them say at once. Tony shivers. “Fuckin’ creepy,” he mutters. “Like the twins from the Shining.”

Thor diminishes several clones with a blast of lightning from his hammer. “Pardon?”

“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it.”

Thor grunts in response.

The Loki clones laugh in unison. _“Anthony,”_ they sing, _“I think we need to talk.”_

“And I think you need to be smacked upside the head,” Tony shoots back. “Where are you?”

All the clones vanish, save for one. “Here,” it purrs. “Or rather, home. Thor, my dear brother, please stop winding up to smack me with that ridiculous hammer of yours,” it sighs. “You will only injure yourself. I am not really here.” it holds up a hand. “And don’t bother trying to find me. I wish to only speak with Anthony.”

With that, the clone turns to Tony. Those unnatural blue eyes bore a hole through Tony’s helmet. “I will be waiting for you. Come alone, or I will flee and you will not be able to track me down again.”

The clone smiles in a sinister manner and disappears. Tony flips his faceplate up. “Well, shit,” he says. He glances over at Thor. The thunder god is staring sadly at where the clone had stood. “Bring him back,” he says in a quiet, defeated tone, so unlike the Thor that Tony had been told about he has to wonder if he should tell the team Thor’s been compromised. “Please, Stark.” Thor turns to Tony with pleading eyes. “You are his last chance.”

Tony wilts. _Maybe you’re not all that bad._ “I’ll get him home,” he promises. “Join the others. They need your help.”

Thor dips his head. “Good luck, my friend.” He spins his hammer and takes off into the sky, disappearing into the forest of buildings, where Tony’s able to track his progress by the blasts of lightning.  Tony closes his faceplate and switches his coms back on. “Alright, guys, Thor’s headed to you. I’m going to Stark Tower. Loki wants to meet up. I’m gonna try and shake him out of this spell or curse or whatever the fuck.”

“ _Aim for the head!_ ” Clint says loudly.

“ _Is that really a good idea?_ ” Natasha asks. Her voice sounds worried, but Tony knows she’s probably just shot someone through the skull. “ _Judging from what we’re dealing with right now, I don’t think he’ll be easy to reason with._ ”

“ _Loki trusts Stark,_ ” Steve reminds them. “ _Loki probably knows how to shut the portal down, and if anyone’s got a chance of getting him to talk, it’s Tony._ ”

“Thanks, Cap. You’ll be alright down here?”

“ _We should be. Nat and I are working with first responders to get everyone out of the way. Just don’t let him get to you,_ ” Steve advises. “ _It gets hairy, you get out of there. We’ll find another way to close the portal._ ”

“Relax, Rogers. I’ve got this.”

“ _Good luck,_ ” Natasha says.

“ _Don’t die,_ ” Clint adds on.

 

With that, he takes off, speeding across the city. Loki is watching for him on the balcony of Stark Tower, leaning on the railing a little too casually for someone leading an alien invasion. He smiles as Tony gets nearer and straightens up. Tony watches as he strolls back inside. Tony lands on the platform and walks toward the doors, desperately trying to calm his nerves as the spinning rings dismantle his suit.  His hands are shaking and he stuffs them in his pockets to try and stop it.

 

Loki’s sitting gracefully on a chair when Tony enters, a glass of whiskey in each hand, looking much more elegant than he should. He’s stripped of his armour, wearing now a tight, sleeveless leather tunic and a matching pair of pants. He’s got one leg crossed over the other and the scepter is leaning against the armrest of the chair. Tony mentally kicks himself, because his first thought is automatically _Shit, that outfit really shows off his stupid muscles._  “Anthony,” he greets. “So good to see you.”

Tony tries to keep steady as he approaches the god. “Likewise,” he says slowly. “Y’know, apart from the whole take over the world thing you’ve got going. I can tell you right now that there are easier and less violent ways to get my attention.”

Loki chuckles and rises. He crosses the floor and passes Tony one of the drinks he’s holding. “Join me for a drink?” he invites. Tony regards him warily. “Well, seeing as you’ve already given me a glass, I don’t think I can refuse, can I?”

Loki smiles. “No,” he admits. “Come.” He strides over to the window to watch the chaos his army is causing. “Is it not beautiful?” he says. “Almost like...starting anew. Wiping the slate clean.”

Tony joins him. “People are dying, Lokes,” he murmurs. “You have to realize that. What you’re doing...it’s not right.”  
Loki sighs. “Anthony, people _must_ die in order for this world to be reborn. It is a sacrifice, yes, and a terrible one, but...it is necessary.”

“It’s not,” Tony argues. He gestures out at the ongoing battle. “None of this is necessary! You’ve been put under a spell of some sort. You have to snap out of it! Open your eyes. This isn’t right. This isn’t _you._ ”

There’s a flicker of uncertainty in Loki’s eyes - only for a moment, but it’s there. He slowly shakes his head. “What can I do to make you understand? I am only trying to help, Anthony!”  
He storms away from the window and begins pacing the room. “When I arrived here, I saw how flawed this planet was. I tried to accept it, to work with it, but I _can’t._ This planet needs to be put in check!”

Tony sets down his glass. “There are things that need fixing,” he says slowly. “I know that. God, Lokes, we _all_ know that. But this isn’t the way to do it.”

“And what would you suggest?” Loki snaps. “Shall we all stand in a circle and sing songs? Patch it up with lies and unnecessary niceties to try and hide the cracks?” He snatches up the scepter and points it at Tony. “Perhaps I should just kill you right here. Then you could not sway me.”

Tony stands, still as a statue, as his heart goes into overdrive. Loki lowers the spear. “But I will not. I _cannot._ I do not desire to hurt you. You are my friend, Anthony. ”

He treads closer to Tony and gently brushes Tony’s suit-tousled hair back into its usual style, then trails his fingers along Tony’ jawline. “Perhaps I wish to be more,” he murmurs, in a voice so quiet that Tony isn’t sure if he heard him right. “And I know you want to be more, too. We could be unstoppable, you and I.” He moves closer and Tony can feel Loki’s heartbeat against his chest, in time with his own. “All you have to do is join me, Tony. We can be together. We can rule this world as kings, and everybody will see your true worth. Let me show you the wonders of true power.”

Tony drops his head against Loki’s chest. “You’re out of control,” he says. “Lokes, I can’t just abandon my people. It’s my job, my _duty_ to protect them. I’m sorry, but…” he pushes Loki away. “If I can’t reason with you, then I have to stop you.”

Loki heaves a sigh. “Very well. It is unfortunate that I could not change your mind.” He shrugs and raises the scepter. “But you will be at my side, no matter what.” Before Tony can run away, Loki pushes the tip of the scepter against Tony’s chest. Tony braces himself, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the feeling of magic flowing through him, but...it never comes. There’s a dull _clink_ as the scepter connects with the arc reactor. Loki frowns and tries again. Same outcome. “This isn’t supposed to happen.”  
Tony, so relieved he could cry, shrugs. “Well, you know how it is. Performance issues, and all that.”

Loki snarls and suddenly there’s a hand wrapped around Tony’s throat. “You will join me, or you will die,” he seethes, lifting Tony off the ground. _Fuck._ “Not gonna happen, Macbeth,” he chokes. Loki tosses him carelessly across the room and stalks toward him. His armour shimmers back into view, black leather melting away to make room for gold metal. “I did not want to harm you,” Loki growls. “But now it appears I must.”

 _Note to self, when Loki’s crazy,_ don’t _call him names,_ Tony thinks, shaking spots from his vision. Tony rolls onto his back and clambers away from the god. “Loki, come on,” he pleads. Loki sends him reeling with a deft kick to the gut. “Pathetic,” he spits. “To think that I admired you.” He grabs Tony by the arm and wrenches him to his feet. “You are a poor excuse of a hero,” he hisses. Tony closes his eyes. “I know,” he says. “Sorry, Lokes, but insults are gonna get you nowhere.”

Loki jerks Tony’s arm behind his back. Tony yells in pain, and Loki’s grip grows tighter. “Call your suit,” Loki demands. “Let us battle.”  
“I’m not going to fight you,” Tony protests. Loki twists his arm again. “Now!” he yells.

“Fuck! Okay! Jarvis, call up the Mark Six.”

_“Sir, it’s too damaged-”_

“Dammit, Jarvis, I don’t care! Just do it!”

Loki steps back as Tony’s suit bursts out from its storage place and locks into place around Tony’s body. The god waits until Tony is fully ready before he leaps at him, scepter aimed at the arc reactor. Tony ducks out of the way just in time, and the scepter clashes against the side of Tony’s arm, ripping a hole in the already broken metal. Loki recovers from the assault quickly and attacks again, summoning blades to throw at Tony, who blasts them out of the way. They fly toward Tony like bullets. One hits home in the hole created by the scepter and pierces Tony’s flesh. He hisses in pain and pulls it out, hoping the skeleton of the suit will prevent it from bleeding too profusely. JARVIS keeps warning him of every little thing going wrong with the suit - which is quite a lot. Broken boosters, jammed targeting system, cracked display, the list goes on.

Loki’s attacks are well timed and vicious, much different than how he fought that day on the beach. He’s not fighting to win - he’s fighting to kill. Tony stumbles back as Loki advances. _I’m not going to fight him,_ he repeats in his head, and instead focuses on dodging Loki’s charges, only throwing punches when absolutely crucial. “Lokes, I’m begging you here. Stop it.” Tony lowers his gauntlets. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Loki’s eyes glitter. “Than I shall kill you.” He lunges for Tony, too quick this time for Tony to get out of the way. He wraps a hand around Tony’s throat - again - and slams him up against the wall. The impact jars Tony momentarily.Loki’s grip is crushing Tony’s throat, and his other hand has Tony’s wrist pinned against the wall. The metal crumples under the Asgardian’s strength. “Fight back!” Loki shouts. “Why won’t you _fight back_?!”

“I...won’t...hurt you,” Tony gurgles as his vision starts to cloud from lack of oxygen. Loki crushes the gauntlet tighter. _“Sir, your right gauntlet is taking severe damage. The power converters are in danger of overloading. If it fires, the resulting discharge could be catastrophic.”_

“Loki, the gauntlet-” Tony chokes. “You’ve gotta let go of the-”

The gauntlet fires. The blast hits Loki square in the chest with a roar of flame and he’s propelled backwards through the air. The scepter flies from his grasp and clatters to the ground as he crashes through the window in a spray of glass. A scream is ripped from Tony’s throat as Loki falls from the tower, too quickly for Tony to fully process what just happened. He sprints to the side just in time to see Loki’s terrified expression as he falls, hands grasping up as though trying to get a hold of something. “No!” Tony cries. He tries to engage the thrusters on his suit, but to no avail. _“Sir, I’m afraid the suit is too damaged. All systems are offline._ ”

“Loki!” Tony yells, falling to his knees at the side of the building. Loki’s plunging down past the floors, hair whipping around his face and eyes wide and scared, suddenly looking nothing like the bloodthirsty chaos god who had just tried to kill Tony.

Tony covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut as he hears the sickening impact of Loki hitting the ground. “No,” he sobs, “No!”

The world is spinning too fast. Tony hears himself tell JARVIS to deploy the Mark Seven. He feels slow and heavy, as though moving through quicksand. The destroyed pieces of the MK six fall to the floor as Tony leaps from the building. Wind rushes through his hair, cold and piercing. The sounds of the battle raging around him are muffled, only distant background noises in Tony’s head. The Mark Seven catches up to him as the ground gets closer. It clamps around his wrists and ankles and closes just in time for Tony to steady himself out. He lands none-too-gracefully, cutting the power as soon as the ground if close enough to land safely. He doesn’t take a moment to get used to the new suit before he breaks into a run, heart pounding so loud in his chest he thinks it may give out.

“No, no, no no no,” he begs as he nears the spot where Loki fell. He kneels down by the crater, ill at the sight.

 

The god is laying unmoving amongst the rubble. His neck is twisted at an unnatural angle, blood blooming out onto the cement from a gash on his head. One hand lays atop his still stomach. Tony rolls him over and his head lolls to one side. He stares at Tony with blank, half-lidded eyes. The blue is gone, having faded back to the shade of green Tony had loved so much.  But now they’ve been dulled, all the light once held inside them gone. A thin trickle of blood runs from the corner of Loki’s mouth, adding a stark contrast against his pale skin. His black hair is slick with blood and sticks to his face. Loose strands of untidy, curly hair spread out across the cement. “Loki, no,” Tony whispers. He opens his faceplate and gathers the god’s body into his lap. Loki lays limply against him, already going cold. His hand slips from on top of his stomach and hangs loosely at his side. Tony cries into Loki’s hair, apologizing in broken sentences. His chest aches like the arc reactor is new, but this time it’s from grief. “I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be gone. Please.”

Loki is still. There’s no flutter of a heartbeat, no twitch of a finger. He just lies there, helpless in Tony’s arms. The light inside him has been snuffed out.

 

 _And it’s your fault,_ Tony’s thoughts say. _Loki’s dead because of you._

 

Tony doesn’t even try to argue with that. He sits there, face wet with tears, holding Loki as if it will make him come back. He’s tuned out the war surrounding him, only able to focus on the still body in his arms. He scoops Loki up, bridal style, and slowly lifts off from the ground. He flies Loki back up to the tower, and carries him to his room. Gently, he arranges Loki on his bed. Drapes one of the many furs over him and pulls it up around his waist. Folds his hands on top of his stomach. Closes his eyes. Wipes the blood away from his mouth and cleans it from his hair. Brushes his hair aside so it’s swept over one shoulder.

When he’s done, Loki could be asleep. _Sleeping beauty,_ Tony thinks with a pang.

Heart aching, Tony presses a shaky kiss against Loki’s forehead and turns away. The door closing behind him feels like the fall of an executioner’s axe. The sound resonates in Tony’s head as he walks away. He leaps out of the hole Loki fell from and flies off to rejoin the battle.

 

Suddenly, the world seems a lot less meaningful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify: This is not the end of this fic. Far from it, actually.
> 
>  
> 
> Edit, June 29th: Due to Summer plans, chapter 14 is going to be delayed. Sorry!!! (I promise I’m working on it)


	14. Romeo & Juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony grapples with his grief and tries to stop the invasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must formally apologize for being so slow on this update

Tony almost gets shot out of the sky three times after he leaves the tower. He’s distracted, his brain repeatedly replaying the moment when Loki fell from the tower over and over again. He only survives the first two times because JARVIS is able to switch onto autopilot to get him out of the way. The third he’s able to avoid because he’s shaken out of his stunned daze by Steve’s voice crackling over the headset.

“ _Stark, how’s it going? You alright?_ ”

Tony narrowly evades a small swarm of gliders. “At the moment? No, not at all.”

“ _Are you out of the building?_ ”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m out.”

“ _And Loki? What’s the deal with him? Were you able to break the mind spell?_ ”

Tony falters in midair. The dreadful sound of Loki hitting the pavement replays in his head. “Loki’s down,” he says stiffly.

“ _Down?_ ” Steve asks. “ _As in-_ ”

“Dead,” Tony spits out the word like it’s poisonous. It hurts to say it aloud. It’s as if saying it makes it permanent, makes it real. “He’s dead.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Steve breathes. “ _What happened?_ ”

“Fucking hell, Rogers, do I sound like I want to fucking talk about this? He attacked me and my suit backfired. End of story. Don’t believe me? I’m sure there’s still blood all over the fucking pavement by my tower if you’re unsure.”

“ _Tony, I’m so sorry,_ ” Steve replies, his voice so soft that Tony’s getting the feeling Steve knows _exactly_ how Tony feels.

“Yeah, thanks, stars and stripes.”

Clint’s voice comes over the radio. “ _Tony, you gonna be alright?_ ”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Natasha chimes in. “ _Please don’t do anything brash._ ”

Tony swears at all of them and keeps blasting away at the Chitauri.

 

Tony’s halfway through crushing a Chitauri’s windpipe when the transmission comes through.  
“ _Attention, Avengers!_ ” Nick Fury barks, prompting confused chatter from everybody on the communications system. “ _The bastards on the council just elected to nuke the city. There’s a bomb flying directly toward you. Stop it!_ ”

Tony throws the limp Chitauri to the side and hears it hit another one out of the sky. Satisfying. “You guys hear that?” He says into his headset.

“ _Yeah,_ ” Steve confirms. “ _We have to get everybody out of the city, and quick._ ”

“ _We can’t, it’ll take too long!_ ” Natasha declares. “ _We have to find another way!_ ”

Tony gets an idea. A really, _really_ bad idea, but one that just might work. “Hang on,” he says. “I think I’ve got a way to stop this invasion, and make sure everybody in this city lives to see another day.”

“ _Well, don’t leave us hanging!_ ” says Clint. “ _What do we need to do?_ ”

“I’ve got this,” Tony assures them. “Keep fighting.”

He doesn’t wait to hear their responses before he switches off his headset. “JARVIS, get me eyes on that nuke.”

 

***

 

Loki’s head feels like Thor’s just bashed it in with Mjølnir. There’s also an unpleasant burning sensation in his lower back, and from what he can sense, at least thirty different bruises, maybe more. Probably more. On the bright side, he’s not dead. On the down side, something was - or rather, had been - blocking his seidr reserves, meaning his injuries were a lot worse than they would’ve been if he had full access to his magic.

 

He also can’t figure out how the hell he’s back in his room in Stark Tower, because he’s positive he was just on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s helicarrier with Tony.

 

He’s shaken out of his confused blur when an explosion shakes the tower. _Clearly, I have missed something,_ he thinks, and throws the furs off of himself, which just makes him even more confused, because he’s fully dressed in his battle armour. “Anthony?” Loki calls out. He’s not surprised when nobody answers. Using the wall as a crutch, Loki limps out of his room and stops in his tracks at the sight laid out in front of him. The living area is in ruins - there are scorch marks covering the walls, the chairs are broken, and there’s a massive hole in the far window. _Oh dear,_ he says to himself.

Loki wanders around the space, stopping only when his foot knocks against a hard object. He looks down to see the scepter, which he was sure he’d taken to the helicarrier. Frowning, he picks it up, and a violent burst of images flash through his mind’s eye. Himself, kneeling in front of The Other. A bloodied scepter and a body falling to the ground. Watching as a portal tears open the sky. Breaking glass and the sickly familiar feeling of free falling.

 

Loki drops the scepter as though it’s scalded him. “What have I done?” He murmurs. He pads over to the hole in the window and stops, horror struck. The city is in flames. Aliens - the Chitauri, Loki recognizes - fire aimlessly at innocents.

Rage burns in his stomach. _This is my doing. Now, I must stop it._

He spins on a heel and snatches the scepter up again, hating the pinpricks of energy that shoot up his palm. Loki summons his helm back and fixes the damage caused by his fall on his armour. He kicks aside broken pieces of furniture in order to get to the elevator.

Which, of course, isn’t working.

“JARVIS, what’s wrong with this infernal thing?”

_“Power is down, sir. The portal on the rooftop appears to be draining the tower.”_

Loki hisses a couple curses in Nordic and walks back over to the broken window. An idea pops into his head and he grins. “JARVIS, open storage compartment LK 1, please?”

_“I’m sorry, Mr. Loki, but you do not have authorization to open Mr. Stark’s personal vaults. May I-”_

“By the Norns, JARVIS, I don’t _care._ Break your protocol and _open that vault._ ”

JARVIS hesitates. _“Mr. Stark has given me strict orders to not let anyone have access to his suits.”_

Loki grits his teeth in annoyance. “Mr. Stark is going to be _dead_ if you don’t open that compartment.”  
_“Very well, sir. Opening compartment LK 1.”_

Loki steps away from the window and places the scepter gingerly on one of the intact chairs. From somewhere in the building - the basement, Loki guesses - a rectangular silver case shoots up and lands on the floor in front of Loki. He regards it warily and nudges it with a toe. The top springs open and he jumps a good foot in the air. _“Okay, so in order to put this thing on, you’ve gotta open the case first and then step onto those two green pads there. Got it?”_ Tony’s voice rings out in Loki’s head. He follows the instructions and steps onto the green ovals. He holds his breath as metal sheaths his legs, slotting neatly in line with each piece. He removes his helm in order to slip a specially made communication device into his ear. As an afterthought, he tears his cape from his back and lets it flutter to the ground. _Probably best not to set myself on fire,_ he thinks.

Stepping out of the case in his newly-assembled boots, he retrieves the scepter from the chair and strides back over to the window. _“Mr. Loki,_ ” says JARVIS, almost nervously, _“Have you used those before?”_

Loki looks down at his feet. “Once. When Tony completed them. How hard can it be?”

He steps out of the tower and is sent plummeting to the ground for the second time that day. Just before he hits the pavement, Loki activates the boosters and steadies out. “Oh, I do _not_ like these,” he mutters, breaking into a jog after landing delicately on the cement.

 

***

Natasha thinks she might be about to die. She’s got one loaded gun left and about seven Chitauri aiming their electric spears at her, and they’re getting uncomfortably close. She slowly steps backwards, toying with the trigger of her gun, desperately trying to figure something out. She hears the sound of the Chitauri’s weapons firing up and Natasha instinctively throws up her arms to protect herself. She hears the blast, sees the searing blue light through her eyelids, but feels nothing. Cautiously, she opens one eye to see none other than the god of mischief standing triumphant over the bodies of the Chitauri.

“Hello, Miss Romanoff,” Loki greets. “You looked like you needed help.”

“I did,” Natasha says slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“Oh, probably,” Loki says dismissively. “But I have too much I have not yet accomplished to die just yet. And fear not, I am no longer under the scepter’s control. If I were, well…” He smiles wickedly, but the malicious intent is not aimed at Natasha. “...you would be dead.”

Natasha visibly relaxes. “Thank god. Look, we’ve got a situation.”

“Explain.”

“Fury radioed in. The council’s sent a nuke to blow up the city. Tony’s got it, but he’s headed straight for the portal and we can’t get radio contact.”

Loki’s grip on the scepter tightens so he has something to stabilize himself with. “Take this,” he says, holding it out to Natasha. “It can close the portal. Only do it when I have retrieved Anthony and we are safely away.”

Natasha nods. “Got it. Be safe.”

Loki dips his head respectfully, and both of them take off.

 

***

If someone had told Tony that he was going to die by flying a nuke into a portal caused by aliens, he honestly wouldn’t have been all that surprised. Well. Depending on when they asked him. If it was before Tony became Iron Man, then Tony probably would’ve laughed.

 

It’s getting progressively colder as Tony gets closer to the portal and the nuke is growing heavier by the second. He has to dodge the incoming Chitauri, as if carrying a nuclear bomb was wasn’t stressful enough. A single hit from one of the Chitauri’s blasters and the entirety of New York is more fucked than Tony was at a New Year’s Eve party.

 _On the bright side,_ Tony thinks, _at least I’m going to see space before I die. That’s cool, right?_

 

He swallows heavily as he flies into the portal. One minute, it’s daytime, the next,  stars are burning bright in the dark vacuum of space. His first thought is that it’s _freezing_ . Tony can feel it through his suit, a biting, harsh cold that sends chills to his bones. It’s silent, _too_ silent, quiet enough that all Tony can hear is his own breath in the confines of his helmet. He realizes with a sickening jolt in his stomach that this is probably what Loki felt when he fell off the - what’d he call it? The Bifrost? - and was sent into the abyss. _Loki,_ Tony thinks with a pang. “JARVIS,” he says softly, with the last of his breath, “Can you find the last photo I took and send it up to the display?”

_“Yes, sir.”_

An image flickers into view on Tony’s screen. It’s a selfie of himself and Loki, taken just hours before this whole debacle started. Tony caught Loki mid-laugh. His eyes are bright as he’s trying to push the camera away, and just looking at Loki’s grin calms Tony down a little. It’s hard to believe that this is the same guy who crashed on Tony’s beach and almost killed him several times over. He looks so human, so _happy_ , in the photo, hair untamed and loose in wild curls, green eyes sparkling like the very sun is trapped within them. _Sorry I fell for you,_ Tony thinks, with a sad little smile. He cuts off his engines as a massive shape looms into view. _The Chitauri spaceship,_ Tony recognizes. It’s _huge._ Tony takes one last breath in, using up the rest of his air. He doesn’t breathe out. His eyes slide shut and the nuke slips from his shoulder. The last thing Tony sees is a bright, hot flash of light as the bomb makes contact with the Chitauri’s ship. The last thing Tony thinks is _if only I had more time._

 

***

 

Chitauri are dropping dead around the Avengers. Scared civilians are slowly emerging from their makeshift shelters, wide eyes peering at the aftermath. One brave child, a young girl with blonde hair, darts away from her father’s side and kicks at one of the corpses in a _take that!_ sort of movement. Her father exclaims in horror and tugs her back. Parents, holding young children in their arms or gripping the hands of older ones, still cower in shops as those with a little fight left in them cautiously step into the ruined roads, squinting up at the portal, still open. Sirens are still wailing from every corner of the city, and fires still flicker and roar from the aftermath of explosions. The air is thick with dust and smoke.

Natasha, on the roof of Stark tower, is desperately watching the portal for any sign of Tony. “ _Romanoff, any movement?_ ” Steve comms in. “Negative,” Natasha answers. “Loki told me to wait, though.”

“ _We don’t know if there’s going to be another wave,_ ” Steve reminds her. He sounds conflicted. “ _Close it._ ”

Natasha closes her eyes and drives the point of the scepter through the energy field surrounding the Tesseract. She hears the blast of repulsors and exhales in relief, confident Tony’s made it out.

 

Loki’s standing on the ground when Tony falls through the portal. A million pounds are lifted from his shoulders in relief, only to slam back down upon him when he sees that Tony’s not slowing down, not stopping, not moving. He doesn’t give it a second thought before taking off in his slightly unstable boots. Loki collides with Tony midair and holds him close as they hit the ground. The contact winds Loki, but he doesn’t let go. He drops to his knees and lays Tony down on the debris-covered cement. He rolls Tony onto his back and rips the faceplate off of his suit. Tony is hopelessly, helplessly still. His eyes are closed and when Loki leans over him, no breath leaves his lips. “Tony, no,” Loki begs. He grasps Tony’s metal-encased hand with his own scraped and bleeding hands and holds it up to his chest. Just over his heart. “Come back. Please.”

The sound of approaching footsteps forces Loki to tear his eyes away from Tony. The Captain and the Archer - Steve and Clint, Loki remembers - are jogging up to meet him. The wind picks up and Thor touches down a couple metres down the road, Mjølnir clenched tightly in his hand. “Loki!” He exclaims, and picks up his pace. “Odin’s beard, I thought you had been killed!”

Loki glowers at him. “I am honoured that you worried, but I also do not care if you missed me.”

“Is he alright?” Steve interjects. Loki, thankful for the rescue, squeezes Tony’s hand tighter and looks back at Tony. “I do not know,” Loki replies, in a voice so quiet and soft it should belong to somebody else. The other three Avengers fall silent, gazing forlornly at their fallen comrade. Loki presses his forehead to Tony’s. Tears have started to well up in his eyes, wet and hot on his face. “I am sorry, my friend,” he murmurs. “But I will not lose you too.” He sits back up again and lets Tony’s hand fall slack against the ground. “I could not save Sigyn. But I can save you.”

“Loki, wait-“ Thor says, reaching out a hand. Loki shoots him a glare so powerful Thor’s blood goes cold. He retreats hastily. Loki closes his eyes and does his best to clear his mind of the hurricane of thoughts and sounds whirling around in his brain. He focuses on one thought: _Save Tony._ Magic surges through his veins, stronger and more powerful than anything Loki had attempted before. It burns as it floods through Loki’s body. Frigga had once warned him that no matter the situation, necromancy of any kind, particularly resurrection, had to be avoided for if performed with even the slightest of error, both the mage and the deceased’s souls could be torn to pieces. So much for that advice.

Now, Loki can see the magic burning through his body, beautiful and terrible like the destruction of a monument at the hands of a bonfire. He struggles to keep control, to take in steady breaths as the magic is expelled.

At the back of his mind, as though heard from far away, he can hear the alarmed exclamations of the Avengers. The god’s hair stands on end and green lights dance through his fingers like ribbons. He raises one above his head and then brings it down over the arc reactor, sending a flood of emerald light over the red and gold of Tony’s suit. Everyone, except, of course, Loki, flinches at the overpowering brightness.

 

Tony gasps and his eyes fly open.

 

Loki’s face is wet with tears he hadn’t felt falling as the spell fades away. “Tony?” He says, voice choked with worry. Tony coughs. “Well, damn. Guess I didn’t make it out of that one. And hey, Lokes,” He struggles to prop himself up on his elbows. “Lookin’ good for a dead guy.”

Loki wipes his tears away with a sleeve. “How do you feel?”

Tony grunts. “Like I died, so okay, I guess.”

Loki drops his head against Tony’s chest, relieved. His own heart is pounding, breath coming ragged from the aftermath of the spell. “Never do that again,” he pleads. Tony pats him on the head. “It all turned out alright, in the end, yeah?” He looks around, finally seeing the other Avengers gathered around them. They all look relieved. “Oh. Hello. Am I dead? Did we all die?”

“Nope,” Clint pipes up. “We made it. We won.”

Tony gives a half-assed cheer and slumps back onto the pavement. “Look at us. Saving the world. Hey, uh, is anybody else seeing Loki here? Or am I just, like, hallucinating?”

“Anthony,” Loki chides, “Shut up.”

He leans down and suddenly Tony finds himself kissing Loki, or rather, Loki’s kissing _him._ It’s gentle, which is actually a little shocking, and every bit as wonderful as Tony had been imagining. “That was unexpected,” he says softly when Loki pulls away. “But not, I hope, unwelcome?” Loki responds. Tony grins. “Absolutely not.”

 

***

 

Everything’s a bit of a blur from there. The invasion is over and the Tesseract is locked away, prepared to be taken back to Asgard. Banner shows up a couple hours later, stressed and a little ticked nobody had gone to find him. Loki doesn’t leave Tony’s side when they return to the helicarrier for debriefing, until Fury’s agents, armed with guns powerful enough to kill an Asgardian, rip Loki away and march him down to one of the cell blocks, shackling his hands in cuffs that prevent him from using magic. Tony hates how willingly he goes. Loki doesn’t put up even a miniscule fight as they lock the shackles around wrists. He doesn’t flinch when the asgardian chains provided by Thor bind his arms to his sides so he can’t fight back even if he wanted to. Tony, furious, confronts Fury on the main deck.

 

“He killed one of my best men,” Fury is saying as he angrily paces the deck. “He _saved my life,_ ” Tony argues. “And provided us with the means to close the damn portal!”

“After he’d killed my soldiers and started the invasion!”

Tony clenches his fists. “That wasn’t him, okay? He’s been living with me for months, and he’s never acted out like that. It was the _scepter._ Just ask Barton!”

Both of them turn to look at Clint. He sighs and rubs his temple. “Look, Director, I know we lost Coulson. And I know it was technically Loki’s fault that the invasion started, but only because he was mind controlled. I think you’re being a little too hard on him.”

Fury rubs his temple, aggravated. “Fine! I won’t order his immediate arrest. But he needs to be put in check.”

Thor stands abruptly. “Leave that to me, Director Fury. I shall take my brother back to Asgard, where we can monitor both him and the Tesseract.”

“I can handle that,” Fury agrees drily. “Until then, he needs to be secured. I can have a cell prepped-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tony cuts in. “He can stay at Stark Tower. He’s already got a room there. And he won’t feel like a fucking prisoner, which is clearly what you’re going for.”

“I do not feel that is wise,” Thor objects. Tony rolls his eyes. “If you’re worried about your little brother’s virtue, calm the fuck down. He’s not a child and he doesn’t need you making decisions for him.”

Fury clears his throat in order to break the furious staring contest Thor and Tony have gotten into. “Tony, your...relations...with Loki aren’t going to interfere with the mission, right?”

“I didn’t realize letting a guy stay at my house was a mission,” Tony says smoothly. “Also? I’m not one of your agents.”

Fury looks about ready to draw his gun and shoot Tony right between the eyes, but he manages to stay relatively calm. “You are damn lucky you’re an asset,” he grinds out. “Now get out of here before I decide you’re not.”

Tony stands and gives a slight mock salute to the others gathered around the table. “See you guys soon. Shawarma, don’t forget.”

He spins on a heel and parades out of the room, smiling smugly.

 

***

 

There’s ice slowly creeping up the side of Loki’s cell when Tony enters the cell block. It’s eerily silent, the only noises the loud ventilation thrumming loudly overhead and Tony’s footsteps echoing against the cement floor. The cell Fury shoved Loki into is tiny, and contains only an uncomfortable looking bed and a toilet that’s hidden behind a small divider. Loki has completely disregarded the bed and is curled up on the cold floor, facing away from the glass.  “Hey,” Tony says softly to announce his arrival. Loki slowly rolls over to peer at Tony through the glass. “Anthony,” he murmurs. “I was hoping to see you again.”

Tony smiles dejectedly. “How’s the, ah, chains? Lovely quarters, might I add.”

Loki rattles the shackles. “I have not felt this weak since you found me. But I know that these are necessary.”

He doesn’t meet Tony’s gaze as he says this, instead staring haplessly at the floor. “I am a monster,” he whispers. Tony kneels in front of him. “No, Loki. You’re not. What happened here wasn’t you.”

Loki laughs scornfully. “My dearest Anthony, the spell used on me was not a simple mind control spell. It took my deeply buried wishes, those that I would never bring to light even to myself, and forced me to make them a reality. Deep down, I _wanted_ this.”

He rolls onto his back. Tony watches him, struggling to come up with a response. “So what?” He says finally. It comes out sharper than he means for it to. “Pardon me?” Loki retorts. Tony, heavily regretting his choice of action, goes on. “I mean it. So what? Everybody has some deep rooted secret that could probably cause them to be deemed insane. Having that doesn’t make you evil. It makes you human. Suck it up, princess, because you’re not a supervillain. You’re just one of us.”

Loki regards Tony balefully. “You are truly terrible at comforting people,” he chides. Tony shrugs awkwardly. “Not the best at emotions.”

Loki chuckles without humour. “Have you come to bid me farewell?”

Tony blinks. “Uh, no? Why?”

Loki shrugs weakly. “I assumed Thor would want to take me back to Asgard. I am correct, am I not?”

Tony’s silence is enough of an answer. “As I thought,” Loki sighs. He turns his head again so he can look at Tony.

“You’ll be coming home with me first, though,” Tony explains. “While we wait.”

Loki smiles sadly. “So we can spend one last day together.”

Feeling rather cliche, Tony presses a hand against the glass. It’s cold from the ice, which he now sees is spreading across the tiny space from wherever Loki touches the ground. “We’ll sort this out, okay? Trust me.”

Loki sits up and struggles to match up his hand with Tony’s. The shackles make it difficult to move, as they’re chained to the floor. “I do,” he replies. “I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the last time Loki will ever wear those boots, because now he's permanently scared of heights.


	15. Where Do We Go From Here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are made clear.

S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are, as Tony has discovered, some of the most irritating and difficult people to negotiate with. They’re right up there with interns who don’t listen, supervillains, and reporters dead set on proving Tony has slept with half the cast of “Friends”. (How _that_ rumour started, Tony would actually pay to find out.) Tony forces himself to smile and nod as Maria Hill lists off all the expectations of their agreement, none of which Tony plans to follow. Loki is silent through all of this, simply sitting primly in the corner. After completely, one hundred percent promising Agent Hill that Loki will be under house arrest, Tony fetches him. “Hey, Lokes,” he says gently. “Ready to go home?”

Loki stands and stretches. “If it means getting out of these infernal things, then yes,” he grumbles. Tony smirks. “I’ll get those off when we get there, m’kay? Fury’s been kind enough to provide us with an entire motorcade of our own.”

“How thoughtful,” Loki deadpans. Tony laughs. “I know, right? C’mon, before they change their minds.”

The heavy chains clamped tightly around Loki’s wrists clank together as he reaches for Tony’s hand. Tony jumps slightly at the unexpected contact. (Also at the cold. Loki’s hands feel like literal blocks of ice. Was that normal? Should Tony be concerned?) He glances at Loki, hoping for some sort of explanation, but Loki just straightens his spine and looks dead ahead. Like a prince. Because of course.

They walk - or rather, Loki drags Tony - hand in hand out of the cell block, resulting in some rather shocked (but incredibly amusing to look at) expressions from agents and soldiers milling around the bottom deck. _Fuck yeah,_ Tony thinks giddily, _I’m holding hands with the Norse god of chaos. I_ kissed _the Norse god of chaos. I’m fucking incredible._

 

Loki lets go of Tony’s hand when they reach the upper deck. Tony’s disappointed to lose the contact, but also a little glad, because Loki’s hands are _freezing._ Unnaturally so. Colder than a dead body. Tony rubs his hand on his shirt to try and warm it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Loki’s mischievous little smirk. _Bastard,_ he thinks, but doesn’t mean it. Not in the slightest.

 

Thor’s waiting for them when they appear. He looks solemn, apologetic, even, as he approaches. He’s holding a bundle of what looks like more chains in one hand, and some sort of metal circlet in the other. Tony’s first guess is that it’s a crown of some sort, but judging from the wary look Loki is regarding it with, he realizes it’s probably something much more sinister. “Brother,” Thor says, when Loki stops before him.

“Don’t call me that,” Loki counters, with an edge in his voice. Thor looks hurt, but he continues anyways. “Brother, I must apologize for this. These S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are very persistent. This is the only way I could soothe their minds.”

Loki smiles tersely. “They still believe I was in full control of what I did.”

Thor dips his head. “I am afraid so. I tried by best to defend you, but…” He leaves the rest unsaid. Loki picks at the palm of one hand with his other, a nervous tic Tony had seen him do quite often. “Thank you, Thor,” he says softly. Thor looks at him, bewildered. “Loki…”

Loki holds up a hand. “This is not forgiveness, Thor. It is simply a show of gratefulness for your attempts. You are…” he struggles to find the right words. “...better now, than you were. And I think I can understand why. Midgard does have a certain charm to it.”

They both share a knowing smile, and for a split second, there’s a tiny flame of brotherhood that sparks between the two. But then it’s gone, and the air is once again thick with unfamiliarity and uneasy interactions. Thor rests a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Much gentler than usual. “I will see you soon, brother. Please, be safe. Be smart.”

Loki huffs out a chuckle. “Have you ever known me to be an idiot, Thor?”

“No,” Thor agrees. “You have always been the intelligent one.”

Loki laughs under his breath. Thor unwinds the chains, heavy, bronze things that are looped around one large circle with a padlock in the center. Loki lifts his arms dejectedly to allow Thor to fasten the loop around his waist, and then attach the smaller chains to the large one, forming a sort of harness. “Thor?” Loki says, as Thor is unbuckling what Tony sees now is a mouth guard type object. Maybe a gag would be a better word for it? “Yes, brother?”

“You are going to see her, aren’t you?” Loki says lowly. “The woman you left here.”

Thor smiles slightly. “Yes. While you say farewell to Anthony, I intend on finding Jane so I might tell her of what has happened.”

Tentatively, Loki pats Thor on the arm. “I am sure she will be delighted to see you.”

Thor shrugs. “With any luck. Perhaps you can meet her, some day.”

“I hope not,” Loki says tiredly. “Can we just get this over with?”

Thor nods slightly and fastens the gag around Loki’s jaw, compelling him to fall silent. Despite the restraints, Loki straightens his spine and keeps his head up high.

 

To anyone else, he would look intimidating. Fearless. To Tony, he just  looks...sad.

 

***

 

Fury wasn’t kidding about the motorcade. After Tony’s packed up his things, he’s escorted to a sleek black SUV that looks exactly like every super secret spy van in any action movie/detective TV show/any work of fiction that has spies. He has to restrain himself from punching someone out when Loki’s frogmarched out to a larger van, where he disappears into what Tony assumes is a portable jail cell. “Are you fucking serious,” he says out loud. Agent Hill raises one of her eyebrows. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yeah,” Tony snaps, and points to Loki’s van. “Didn’t we decide he _wasn’t_ an immediate threat? Do you have to treat him like he just killed the fucking president?”

Maria folds her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, but Director Fury mandated that this was to be how he was transported. I can request that you sit with him, if you’d like?”

Tony gives her a tense thumbs up. Maria dips her head and strides off to talk - rather loudly - to the driver of Loki’s prison van. A few moments later, Tony’s being forced to put on a bullet proof vest and a helmet to “protect him” from Loki. Who is currently sitting, or rather, sprawling, across the bench inside his section of the van. _Dumbasses,_ Tony thinks as he climbs in. _If Loki wanted to kill us, we’d all be dead already. And that’s without his magic. But thanks for the piece of plastic and poor fashion statement of a vest._

 

Tony takes the spot closest to the bars, which is, unsurprisingly, empty. All the guards assigned to the van are squeezed to one side, obviously unnerved by the god in their charge. Tony plops himself down and settles in. He pulls the helmet off and chucks it aside, ignoring the displeased exclamations of warning. “What’s up, Lokes?” He says. Loki opens one eye and his face breaks into a smile. (Tony notices they’ve removed the gag. Good. It looked too sadistic anyways.) “Anthony! I had no idea you would be joining me on this, ah,” he sniffs, “ _Adventure._ ”

Tony shrugs. “Couldn’t stay away from your pretty face,” he jokes. Loki rolls his eyes, but rolls off the bench to sit beside Tony anyways. His hands are still shackled, but - thank god - the chains around his waist have been removed. Loki leans against the bars, slinging one hand through a gap in the iron rails. “Has Thor said anything yet?” He inquires. The van starts to move. “Not really?” Tony answers. “I can tell you he’s not a fan of you staying with me for the time being.”

Loki snorts. “I suppose he is scared I will fall prey to your charm.”

“And do you think you will?”

Loki gets as close as he can to Tony through the bars. Which is to say, not that close at all. “My dear, I already have.”

 

***

 

Loki falls silent when the van enters the remains of New York. There aren’t any windows in the back of the van, where Loki, Tony, and the rest of the soldiers sit, but one of the drivers has kindly left the sliding divider open, allowing those close enough to be able to see through the front windshield. Loki clambers over to this small opening, straining on his restraints in an attempt to get a glimpse of the damage. His shoulders sag and it’s as if someone has just drained him entirely of everything he held dear. He looks helpless, really, and if Tony could see his face, he would be able to spot the tears welling up in Loki’s pained eyes. Loki desperately tries to blink them away, but the guilt refuses to loosen its tight hold in Loki’s subconscious. It bites and gnaws at him like a starved animal, digging knives of regret deep into his flesh, invisible chains made of disgust at what he’d done binding him tight alongside the physical chains that already weaken him. He drops to his knees and covers his eyes with one hand, his mouth with his other. He stifles his sobs like this for the rest of the trip. Tony watches him intently, for to him, it simply looks like Loki is meditating, or something. Who knows, with the god.

 

The van rumbles on through the wreckage, lurching over chunks of cement and on two occasions, the corpses of fallen Chitauri. (The noise that made caused everybody on board to vomit in their mouths a little bit.) It’s hard to hear through the heavy steel walls of the S.H.I.E.L.D. van, but the louder noises, such as sirens and the loud crashing of damaged buildings collapsing, come through, though muffled. Tony swallows the building panic in his throat and diverts his attention to the shoes of the masked agent across from him.

 

The rest of the ride literally could not feel any longer.

 

When the van - and the rest of its unnecessary escort - _finally_ pull up in front of Stark Tower, Tony hops out of the van at the instruction of a severe-looking soldier with salt-and-pepper hair and a body built like a tank. Four of the soldiers - _four of them, seriously?_ Tony remarks silently - unlock the transport cage carrying Loki and steer him out of the van. One of them buckles the stupid gag back on, and practically runs away when Loki shoots him a glare. (Not even a bad one. Compared to some of the looks _Tony_ has received, that glare was practically flirting.)

“Well, Stark,” Maria Hill announces, appearing out of nowhere at Tony’s elbow. “He’s all yours, for the time being.”

“Fucking hell!” Tony barks. “Where did you come from?”

Maria ignores him. “We’ll be back to take him to the departure point in three days. Thor will meet us there.”

Tony gives her an incredibly fake smile and wanders off to intercept Loki. “Thanks, boys,” he tells the soldiers still escorting Loki, “But I’ve got it from here.”

He pushes in beside them and locks his hand firmly on Loki’s bicep, steering him away from the perplexed soldiers. “Sir, we’ve been instructed to escort-”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, all those explosions have rendered me deaf to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bullshit,” Tony calls over his shoulder. The soldiers behind him exchange matching expressions of half annoyance, half disbelief. _Why’d I take this job?_ One thinks, while the other rolls his eyes and turns back to rejoin the rest of the group.

 

***

 

The Tower is still a mess. Not surprising, really, seeing as it had been the center of an alien invasion. There’s a lot of work to be done before it’s livable in again. Well. Before it’s _comfortably_ livable again.

Broken glass still covers the floor and there’s a decent amount of broken furniture, plus some nasty scorch marks on the walls that are going to be a bitch to clean off. The window Loki fell through that will have to be replaced entirely, as well as half the furniture on that level, including the minibar. The lower levels are relatively undamaged, though there’s several broken windows and a couple patches that had definitely been on fire. One unpleasant and unexpected surprise was a Chitauri glider - complete with barbequed pilot - that had crashed into the first floor. (It smelled disgusting.)

 

Tony sits Loki down on a chair that isn’t covered in glass to remove his restraints. First comes the gag, which Tony tosses to the floor and kicks away. Loki doesn’t say anything, but he does smile. Lightly. Barely.

“Gonna be honest,” Tony says as he unlocks the chains on Loki’s wrists, “I think they’re going overboard with the chains. Do they just secretly have a bondage kink?”

Loki chuckles at that. “I think they are just afraid of me,” he responds. Tony lets the chains fall away. “Well, that’s on them. S.H.I.E.L.D. looks at the world through a very narrow scope. If you do something bad, you’re evil and irredeemable. If you do something bad but people like you, you get a warning. And if you try and help people but in the process draw too much attention to yourself, you’re shoved into a group without warning and told to save the world.”

Loki rubs at his wrists. “Midgardians have a very strange justice system.”

“A sucky one, too.”

Loki stretches the kinks left by the chains out and clasps his hands neatly behind his back. “I suppose we should probably talk,” he says slowly. “Perhaps upstairs, where we are not in plain view of anyone who walks past?”

Tony eyes the gaping hole from the glider. “Good idea.”

 

They take the elevator up. It’s awkward. And silent. And there’s a good four feet in between the two of them.

 

The doors open and Loki quickly exits. Tony follows suit, already beginning to regret every single decision that brought him to this moment. Loki doesn’t say a word. He stands in front of the window, hiding his face from Tony.

“You scared the hell out of of me, you know,” Tony says, breaking the silence.

“How so?” Loki replies.

“When you fell out of the tower. I thought you were dead. Fuck, Lokes,” Tony stammers, “I thought I had killed you.”

He hears Loki exhale softly. “Oh, Anthony, I am so sorry. I should have mentioned that us Asgardians are much more durable than humans. I apologize for any grief I caused you.”

Tony waves a hand. “No, it’s...it’s okay. Just...don’t do it again, alright? Don’t do anything like that again.”

More silence.

“So, how’d you survive, anyways?”

Loki chuckles. “As I said, as a god, I do not get injured as easily or as severely as humans. I fell from the sky, remember, and I survived that.”

Tony furrows his brow. “Right. Probably should’ve remembered that _before_ I had a total breakdown.”

Loki shakes his head, bemused. “I would have gone into shock, when you found me, which is why I appeared dead. It’s a reflex. Like how your suit will assess any bodily harm. That is essentially what happened to me. Well, and a truly terrible headache.”

Tony smacks him across the arm. “You had a _concussion_?”

Loki flinches. “Yes?”

“Asshole!” Tony snaps. “I felt terrible! I flew into a wormhole!”  
“Yes, that was rather reckless,” Loki comments.

“Fuck off,” Tony grumbles.

Even more silence.

“You want something to eat?”

“Norns, yes,” Loki says, practically deflating in relief.  
“Great. I’ll find one of the take out menus laying around.”

 

A very confused delivery guy drops off their food. Tony tips him a large sum of money to thank him for wading through the rubble so Loki doesn’t raid the cupboard. They sit on a couch and eat noodles and ginger beef, which Loki spears with a dagger using his expert aim. He doesn’t say anything for the most part, and spends the majority of the time either focusing intently on scratching designs into his plate using a chopstick and soy sauce, or just blankly staring at Tony.

Tony has to admit, this was not the way he imagined this day ending, but it wasn’t bad. Things could certainly be a lot worse. For now, though, he’s content just sitting with Loki, thankful that they both made it out of the battle alive.

 

Somewhat.

 

***

 

Later that night, things start to get weird. Loki can’t seem to focus on anything. He keeps zoning out and looking concerned, as though contemplating something. He doesn’t reply to any of Tony’s attempts at conversation with anything more than a one word response or a stiff shrug. Tony catches him watching his every move, shoulders tensed and hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles have turned white. A couple minutes after ten o’clock, Loki disappears into his room with no warning. He breezes past Tony, not even looking at him. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Tony calls after him, but is met only with the distant sound of Loki’s door slamming. Tony stands alone in the living room for a moment, before yawning and dragging himself off to his own bedroom, where he proceeds to collapse on his bed, fully clothed, and falls asleep.

 

Seeing as most of the city has been evacuated, there are still construction workers trying to clean up the mess, meaning there’s a lot of flashing lights and loud noises outside. Tony got JARVIS to draw the blinds, but some of the systems are still rebooting so anything more than that is impossible. He’s not sure if it’s the noises that wakes him at two AM, or the feeling of unease settling over him. He slowly rolls over to see an ominous figure standing over him, illuminated by the lights from outside.

Tony shouts and almost falls out of the bed. He’s caught by strong hands and he hears a gentle laugh as someone helps him back onto the mattress. “Fucking _hell,_ Loki,” he complains, voice slurred with drowsiness. Loki smiles down at him. “Don’t do that,” Tony grumbles. “Why th’ fuck are you in here, anyways? ‘S generally considered creepy to watch people sleep.” The grin slips off Loki’s face. “I...have had trouble sleeping,” he admits. Tony pushes himself so he’s leaning on his elbows. “Is that it?”

Loki blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean this _doesn’t_ have to do with how weirdly you were acting earlier?”

In the dark, Loki ducks his head remorsefully. “My apologies.”

Tony gropes around on his bedside table, eventually hitting the “on” switch for his lamp. He sits up fully. “What’s going on, Lokes? Is there something new troubling you?”

Loki lets out a shuddering breath. “I fear I have made a grave error,” he says quietly. He sounds close to tears.

“Lokes, please, the invasion wasn’t your fault, please stop blaming-”

“No,” Loki cuts him off. “Not that.” He crosses his arms and begins to pace the length of Tony’s room. “When you fell from the portal,” he murmurs. “You did not survive the fall.”

Tony’s heart skips a beat. “What?”

Loki closes his eyes and swallows heavily. “The lack of air in your suit and the temperature of space was too much for your body. Your organs shut down. Tony, your heart stopped beating. You were dead.”

“I was dead,” Tony parrots. “No, that’s not right. I’m here, I’m alive, clearly I made it, right?” He finishes with a nervous chuckle. Loki stops pacing. “Anthony, you’re alive because I was selfish. When I caught you and found no trace of life within you, I did something foolish. I…” He chokes on his words and stifles a sob in his hand.

“What did you do, Loki?” Tony demands. Loki looks over at him with fear in his eyes. “I used a necromancy spell, Anthony. I...brought you back. And in doing so, I may have doomed both of us.”

Tony gawks at him, unable to find words. Loki clearly takes this badly, for he resumes his pacing at a more urgent speed. “I am so, so sorry, Anthony. I lost Sigyn, lost Vali and Narfi, lost my parents and my brother. And after all that, I could not lose _you._ Not ever. I only just accepted how much you mean to me, and I could not bear to let you die. You saved my life, Anthony, and not when you brought me into your home after you found me. You gave me purpose again, showed me the beauty of an imperfect world.” His voice softens to a whisper. “You let me love someone again.”

And it’s that, that line, those words, that prompts Tony to get out of bed. “So that whole display on the battlefield, that wasn’t just you being relieved to see me?”

“ _No,_ ” Loki practically cries. “I am sorry, Anthony.”  
“For what?” Tony questions. Loki stops in his tracks. “I…”

“No, seriously. What are you sorry for? Not letting me die?”

Loki glances around the room like a cornered animal. “Did you not hear me? We could both perish at any moment, or suffer pain so terrible we _wish_ we were dead.”

“Well, then we’ll suffer together. Look,” Tony sighs, “I kinda knew when I dragged your ass in from the beach that my life was going to get complicated. Well, more complicated than it already is. Loki, at this point, you’ve got to realize I’m in this for the long run. So your bad decision might get us killed. Whatever, man! I make bad decisions all the time, and it’s a miracle I’m still kicking. You have _nothing_ to apologize for. Okay?”

“Tony…” Loki protests. Tony shushes him. “Come here,” he says. Loki raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because- fucking hell, Loki, stop questioning everything I say. Just come here.”

Loki rolls his eyes - there’s the Loki Tony loves - and closes the gap between the two of them. “Okay,” he says, “Now what?”

Tony kisses him.

This time, Loki doesn’t pull away.

 

***

 

There’s sunlight streaming through the blinds. As Tony opens his eyes, he becomes aware of the empty space beside him. Blearily, he stretches his hand across the sheets, searching for the familiar warmth of Loki.

The bed dips down as someone sits on it. “Awake at last, I see,” Loki says. Tony grumbles. “You left and it got cold in here.”  
Loki laughs airily. “Usually, I _stay_ and it is cold. Here,” he says, passing Tony a hot mug. “Coffee. How you like it.”

“God, you’re perfect,” Tony chirps, snatching the mug out of Loki’s hands. He takes a sip and then squints at Loki. “Is that my shirt?”

Loki glances down at himself. “Perhaps,” he says. “Are you going to do something about it?”

Tony sets his mug down on the table and tugs Loki down to lay beside him. “Nah. It looks good on you.”

Loki grins and intertwines their hands. Tony leans over and kisses him lightly. “Good morning, beautiful,” he says. Loki snorts. “It’s noon, Tony.”

“ _Good morning,_ ” Tony repeats. Loki laughs. “If you say so.”

Tony moves in for another kiss. Loki complies, running a gentle hand through Tony’s already messy hair. “What’s on the schedule for today?” Tony murmurs, once they’ve separated.

“More repairs,” Loki answers. “I discovered a malfunctioning circuit while attempting to brew your coffee this morning. I would suggest checking the breaker box and possibly rewiring the fuse entirely. I would hate to be electrocuted again.”

Tony grins. “Look at you, knowing what terms to use.”

Loki pecks him on the cheek before rolling off the bed and standing up. “JARVIS told me what to say. Your technology still confuses me, my dear.”

Tony slides off the bed and hops to his feet next to Loki. “Ah, you’ll get it one day. It’s not all that hard to understand.”

Loki replies in his mother tongue and Tony tilts his head. “What?”

“My point exactly,” Loki says drily. “Now put some pants on. We have work to do.”

“You like me without pants, though!” Tony shouts at Loki’s retreating back. Loki chuckles as he exits. “Only sometimes!” He calls back, and shuts the door. Tony smiles. Life is good.

 

The days since Loki’s return to the tower have been a blur. There’s been a lot of working, cleaning, electrocutions from split wires, and - Tony’s personal favourite - lots of awkward kisses. It’s taking time to get used to, for both Tony and Loki. Loki’s still taking it slow, and Tony’s just surprised he got this far.

As for the tower, there’s a lot of work that has to be done. Especially since Tony’s had an idea for what to do with it. New blueprints to make, building to be done, and robots to reboot. The usual, really.

 

Loki’s already sorting through files on the holoscreen when Tony finds him. Tony gently touches his waist to let him know he’s there as he joins him. “What’re you doing?”

“JARVIS is helping me find all the damaged areas in the tower, so we have a better understanding of where to work.”

Tony nods. “Smart idea.”

“I suggest we start today in the garage,” Loki advises. “It is stable for now, but if we leave it too long the foundations may collapse, resulting in significant structural decline.”

“Sounds good. J, gimme a status report on the garage?”

_“Structural integrity is at 79%, sir. An explosion has knocked out three of the pillars and blown out one wall.”_

Tony claps his hands together. “Alright. Great. Lokes, can you go grab my phone from my bedside table while I get everything powered up?”

Loki nods. “Of course.” He strides off, leaving Tony at the screen alone. He taps in a command that brings up his music library, where he sets to work creating a new playlist. (He’s still trying to get Loki into his music. It’s not working.)

He’s uploading the playlist to JARVIS’s PA system when Tony’s eyes catch the date in the upper right hand corner. His heart drops to the floor. “JARVIS,” he says slowly, “Do you have any messages from Fury?”

_“I do, sir. One, from ten fifteen this morning. Would you like me to play it?”_

Tony swallows. His head is pounding. “Yeah. Play it.”

 

“ _Stark, I hope you’ve just dropped your phone and you’re not ignoring me,_ ” Fury’s voice says, over the PA. “ _Thor’s back and he’s waiting to take his freaky little brother back to their planet. You’d better get both your asses over here by two PM at the latest, or I’m having my guys kick down your door. And don't try to talk your way out of this, Stark. I want Loki off my planet, and I want him gone now. Don't delay."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, these two can't catch a break


	16. Don't You (Forget About Me)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

It’s as if the world itself has stopped turning. Every sound from outside, whether it’s the humming of the blades of news helicopters or the sound of tires turning on pavement is too loud. It feels as though the roof of the tower has caved in, trapping both Loki and Tony underneath the rubble. Loki’s hands start to shake and he shoves them deep into the pockets of his sweatpants in an effort to appear calm and collected in front of Tony, who is staring up at the holoscreen in a mix of disbelief, rage, and desperation. “I forgot that was today,” he murmurs. His voice is an echo that barely manages to cut through the fog filling Loki’s head. _I can’t go back,_ he’s thinking. _I_ won’t _go back. I’m safe here. I’m safe here with Tony. I can be free here. Not on Asgard. Please don’t make me go back, please don’t make me-_

“Loki!” Tony’s shouting, and Loki’s suddenly aware of hands on his arms and Tony shaking him. “Hey! You with me?”

Loki takes a deep breath in and rubs at his face with his hands. “Yes. Yeah, I’m with you,” he murmurs. Tony exhales in relief and lets go of Loki’s arms. “Okay. Okay. We’re okay. We’re going to be okay.”

“We’re really not,” Loki points out. Tony groans. “I’m trying to keep the mood light here, Lokes.”

“Oh. My apologies.”

Tony goes to sit on one of the torn couches and puts his face in his hands. “I think the universe hates me,” he says.

“The universe doesn’t care,” Loki responds. He pads over to sit beside his lover. “And I think if it did, life around here would be much more difficult.”

Tony raises his head to look at Loki. “What do we do?”

For once, Loki is at a loss for words. His brain is working a thousand miles an hour, desperately trying to come up with a plan, a solution, an answer to a problem that has only one possible outcome. He swallows thickly. “We have to go,” he decides, feeling like he’s just sentenced himself to death. The words hangs heavy in the air, final and bleak. “I must return to Asgard.”

“No, Loki,” Tony begs. “We can figure something out, we just need a little more time.”

“I’m afraid not,” Loki cuts him off. And it’s true. Even if they had more time, any plan they devised wouldn’t work. “No matter what, one of us gets hurt. If we refuse to go, Fury will have his agents come take me. If we run, they will find us. _Thor_ will find _me,_ and I will be in even more trouble than I was in the first place.”

“Then you can just create a clone and send that with Thor!” Tony suggests, as his tone grows even more desperate. Loki shakes his head. “My clones cannot withstand the Bifrost. It would be evaporated the minute Heimdall activated the gateway, and Thor would just come back. It is best if we obey our orders.”

“Jesus, that’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Tony mutters. Loki tentatively reaches a hand and gently turns Tony’s head to face him. “I will be okay.” _I won’t be._ “This is the best possible outcome.” _I would take death over going back._

Tony kisses him, harsh and to the point, and it’s only when he pulls away does Loki realize he did it to mask the tears he’s begun to cry. Heart in his throat, Loki wipes them away with his thumbs and kisses him again, gently this time. “Do not cry, Anthony. This will not be goodbye.”

_It will be._

  


***

 

Each turn of the car’s wheels feels like a dagger piercing Loki’s flesh. There’s a million different thoughts spinning through Loki’s head as they grow closer and closer to the instructed location, provided by one of the agents. _Hill_ , Loki recalls. _Agent Hill_. Tony keeps throwing him sidelong glances as they drive. Loki can’t tell if he’s doing it out of dread, as though trying to treasure every second they have together, or if he’s checking to see how Loki is faring.

 

Loki didn’t think he’d ever dread returning to Asgard more than he had the night his wife and children died. When Sigyn had been killed, Loki had had nowhere else to go. He had lost everything that night, the home he’d built with his wife destroyed in unforgiving flames. He hated going back to his home planet with his three surviving children shell shocked at his side, but there was no other choice. They had nothing. If they had stayed on Vanaheim, Loki had no doubt that more enemies of the throne would come. Now, though, Loki has another home. He has friends, sort of. He has Tony, obviously, and Pepper. He enjoyed spending time at Tony’s parties, when he would challenge Tony to a drinking contest and then laugh at him the next morning when he was too hungover to stand. He loved the quieter moments, when Tony would return from a particularly draining mission and and they would speak in hushed voices until ungodly hours in the morning. He loved the view from his bedroom’s balcony in Malibu, the feeling of wind in his hair and the smell of salt water. He cherished the feeling of rebellion every time he wore Midgardian clothes or wore his hair up in a manner that on Asgard would be considered ill-fitting for a child of the royal family. He loved Earth, for all its flaws.

But at the same time, Loki can’t help but miss the sheer majesty of Asgard. How the light would reflect on the golden spires of the castle, turning it into a supernova in the center of the great city. How within the walls of that castle his brother had chased him when they were kids, running up and down the hallways and causing a ruckus. He remembers the way the moonlight would illuminate his quarters at night, casting silver shadows over trophies of past hunts and books cast astray in his quarters, where he spent so much time practicing magic and researching the nine realms. He remembers his mother’s gentle touch, her soft voice telling him to not give up as he failed to cast a spell. The thoughts are so familiar but at the same time, feel as though they belong to somebody else. He knows that all of that beauty, all that love, will be locked away from him when Odin has passed his judgement. As far as his liar of a father is concerned, Loki will just be another criminal to be imprisoned and left to slowly turn mad in the depths of Asgard’s dungeons.

 

He becomes aware of Tony’s car slowing to a halt and shifts up into a sitting position. The leather of his armour squeaks against the backing of his seat. “Are we here?” he asks numbly. Tony takes a moment to respond. “Yeah,” he finally says. The doors unlock with a _click._ Loki feels himself unbuckle his seatbelt and slowly open the door, body acting solely on instinct an instruction, for his mind is elsewhere. He climbs out, heart pounding in his ears. The rest of the Avengers are gathered there, and Loki counts four S.H.I.E.LD. agents, dressed up in their perfectly ironed black suits and tinted sunglasses. “Where’s Fury?” Tony says to Agent Romanoff, who’s approaching with Barton. “He’s entrusted this mission to us,” Romanoff replies. “He has other matters to deal with.”

Tony snorts as though he doesn’t believe her. Romanoff glances down at Tony’s hand, which is tightly holding Loki’s. Loki sees an expression of surprise flicker across her features for a moment, before she shakes it off and points to where Thor is standing. “Go talk to him,” she says to Loki. “Stark, I’d like you to check the Tesseract and ensure it’s safe for transport.”

Tony squeezes Loki’s hand and gives him an encouraging smile Loki lets out a heavy breath and reluctantly trudges over to meet his brother. Thor is waiting by himself, looking out of place and awkward in his clunky armour. “Hello again, brother,” he greets, when Loki has stopped in front of him. Loki crosses his arms. “This is truly unnecessary,” Loki growls. “And you know it.”

Thor sighs. “I know, Loki. And I am deeply sorry I must do this. But father commanded I bring you to him, and I do not wish to anger him.” Loki throws his head back in annoyance. “Why must you do _everything_ Odin tells you? Disobey, for once in your life, and _let me stay._ ”

“When I saw how happy you were here, I considered it,” Thor confesses. “But Loki, after what you did, these agents will imprison you if I leave you on Midgard.”

“Which is _precisely_ what Odin will do if you take me to him!” Loki snarls.

Thor closes his eyes, either in shame or sadness. “Loki, please. I can reason with him. Perhaps he will let you off easy. You are still his son, after all, no matter what you have done..”

Loki scoffs. “He is a stubborn old fool, Thor. He will not go easy on me simply because he raised me! If anything, he will lock me away deeper and cover up the fact I ever existed so that my story would not bring shame upon his perfect family!” Loki’s voice grows in volume and anger. Thor takes a miniscule step back as Loki fumes. He becomes aware of the lull in conversation from the Avengers and rakes a hand through his hair. “Thor,” he starts, quieter this time. He hesitates, and then in a tone that makes it clear he regrets ever letting the words pass through his lips, continues. “ _Brother._ I cannot come back with you. If you are truly so set on me returning, then you will have to kill me and bring my lifeless body back to your father.”

Thor winces and hefts the pair of shackles he’s holding. “Please, brother, let’s just make this easy. We can figure something out. I will not let anyone hurt you. If you come with me, I _promise_ I will protect you. Just like when we were kids. Trust me one more time.”

Loki clenches his fists. “If I go, will I be able to come back?” His voice has turned soft as he glances over at Tony, still studying the Tesseract with Bruce. Thor hesitates. “I do not know,” he professes. Loki bites his lip to keep from acting out in anger again. “Very well,” he concedes. Loki holds up his wrists for Thor to shackle. The metal settles around his wrists, cold and heavy. He feels a small shock run up his arms as the magic within them works to render Loki’s magic useless. It’s a painful, burning sensation once it works, like the symptoms of a bad fever. Loki closes his eyes and clenches his jaw as the pain passes. He sags forwards as the new magic subsides, effectively rendering his own magic useless. “Just once,” Loki growls, flexing his hands and hating the feeling of powerlessness, “I would like to shove _you_ into these, and see how you like it.”

Thor smiles wryly. “I am afraid they would do very little,” he remarks. Loki flashes a smirk before turning away. “Is it ready?” Thor calls to Tony and Bruce. “Yes,” Bruce shouts back.

Loki meets Tony’s gaze from across the way. Tony’s eyes travel down to Loki’s chained wrists and he quickly looks away, taking interest in Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff, who are engaged in some sort of contest to see who can make the stoic agents break first by pelting them with pebbles from the ground. (Natasha wins, after she hits one of them square in the back of the neck and he bites out a curse.)

The Asgardians cross the courtyard to say farewell to their comrades in arms. Thor gives Steve a hearty handshake that leave the super soldier looking rattled. Loki gives him a small bow, at which the Captain smiles and returns it. “Live well, Captain,” Loki says. “You are a good man, and a good leader. Lead as I have seen you do, and your team will always remain victorious.”

Steve blinks in surprise at the words. “Thank you,” he replies respectfully, though the confusion in his voice is obvious.

Thor marches over to the two assassins in order to clap them both on the shoulders and exchange words inaudible to Loki. Bruce wanders over to him with the case containing the Tesseract, leaving Tony and Loki to uncomfortably stand across from each other. “Well, Lokes,” Tony says, rocking forwards on his toes. “It’s been fun.”

“It has,” Loki agrees. They both awkwardly stand in silence for a couple minutes as everybody says their goodbyes to Thor. “Guess this is it,” Tony speaks up again. Loki dips his head. “I suppose so, for the time being. Thank you, Anthony. For all you have done.”

Tony waves it away as though it’s nothing. “Ah, don’t bother thanking me. I barely helped. You could’ve figured out this planet by yourself.”

“No, seriously,” Loki tells him. “I would not be standing here today without you.” He pauses, frowning. “By that, I mean I would be _dead_ if it weren’t for you.”

Tony laughs, and for just a moment, Loki’s fears about his future fade away. “Eloquent as always, Lokes.”

Loki grins slightly.

“Loki!” Thor shouts. Loki glances over his shoulder. Thor’s holding the Tesseract, preparing to depart. “Come, we must not delay!”

“Give me a moment!” Loki snaps at him, then turns back to Tony. “Listen to me, Anthony. When I am gone, please do not despair. Rebuild the tower for your Avengers. Fight the evils of this world twice as hard, for I cannot fight alongside you. Think not of what I am enduring. Think instead of your people, and of your friends. If you truly must think of me, then remember the times we spent together, and do not dwell on everything we could have done.”

“Loki-”

“Take this,” Loki continues hurriedly, pressing something into Tony’s palm and closing Tony’s fingers around it. “Wear it with pride, for it means you befriended a prince of Asgard. And if people ask of me, tell them that we were _magnificent._ ”

“Loki, why are you making it sound like we’re never going to see each other again?”

And Loki smiles through tears he had desperately tried to blink back. “I love you,” he says simply.

“What?” Tony stammers, not sure he’d heard Loki correctly.

“I love you, Tony Stark,” Loki repeats. “Don’t you _ever_ forget that.”

He steps forward and tilts Tony’s head up into a kiss, relishing in the feeling. He traces a hand along Tony’s body, mapping it out, memorizing it. “Farewell, my love,” he murmurs, and then he pulls away, and walks to his brother without looking back. “I am ready,” he says to Thor, who’s staring at him like he just grew horns. “Right! Of course!” Thor exclaims, and holds out one end of the Tesseract for Loki to hold. He grabs on and they twist the mechanism. There’s a clap of thunder and a beam of bright blue light swallows them both, leaving only a vaguely steaming scorch mark in the pavement.

 

Tony opens his hand to look at the thing Loki had given him. It’s a pendant, one that Tony had seen Loki wear several times back in Malibu. It’s a small golden serpent, emerald eyes glittering in such a way that reminded Tony so strongly of its owner. The snake is coiled tightly around a jewel so brilliant and beautiful Tony has no doubts it comes from Asgard, and could not be found on Earth. Heart in his throat, he pulls the braided leather cord over his head and lets the pendant rest in the center of his arc reactor.

“So,” says Clint, the first to break the shocked silence. “You and Loki, huh?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short for the sole reason of I wanted to be dramatic.


	17. Judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki faces his family on Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To start off, I wanted to say a huge thank you to everybody that's read this, as we've hit over 10000 reads! Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying this story, it really does mean a lot!

_ Before life existed in the universe, thousands of years ago, there was only the abyss known as Ginnungagap.  _

 

Six pairs of leather-soled shoes tread across the marble floor. Each perfectly timed step sends a sharp echo bounding through the chambers. 

 

_ This chaos of silence and darkness lay between two realms. The first being the frigid domain of Niflheim, and the second being the fiery expanse called Muspelheim.  _

 

The footsteps halt outside one of the blindingly white cells. The figure seated inside the cell pays the soldiers no regard, and continues silently reciting his legends within his head. 

 

_ As time wore on, frost from Niflheim crept toward Ginnungagap, where it joined the raging fires of Muspelheim. The two elements battled against one another, hissing and sputtering. Muspelheim’s great flames melted the ice of Niflheim, and the droplets that formed were spun into the first giant, named Ymir. _

 

“My lord?”

 

_ Ymir had no need of a mate, for when he sweat, more giants were born from Ymir’s body. As Niflheim’s ice melted- _

 

“Your highness?”

 

_ -it uncovered Audhumbla, the first cow. Her milk gave Ymir strength, and in turn, she lived off of the salt licks found in the melting ice.  _

 

“Lord Loki, your father requests your presence.”

 

Finally, Loki raises his head. “You may tell Odin that if he wishes to speak with me, he may do so by gracing me with his company here.”

One of the soldiers shifts uncomfortably. “My lord, we cannot leave here without you. Either you come with us peacefully, or we must bring you by force.”

Loki chuckles darkly. “Oh, it would be wise not to lay hands on me.”

“Then cooperate, and I will have no need.”

Loki grudgingly rises to his feet, the woollen blanket that had been draped across his thin shoulders sliding to the floor, where it lay in a heap. He strides toward the cell wall as dignified as he can, for he shakes from lack of sleep. 

 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been locked in Asgard’s dungeons. There’s no way to tell time, for there are no windows and no guards answer any of the prisoner’s queries. All Loki knows is that it’s been a while since Thor brought him through the Bifrost. 

 

Heimdall had not met Loki’s eye as Thor greeted him. Loki had smiled wryly at this, remembering the last time they spoke. 

He made idle conversation with Thor as they crossed the bridge, commenting on the repair of the Bifrost and asking how Thor’s human lover was faring. 

Loki relished in the silence that fell over the crowds of Aesir in the streets as Thor marched his traitorous little brother up to the palace. He caught snippets of whispers as they passed, some debating where Loki had gone, others taunting him as they pushed through the masses. I could kill you with a single word, Loki thought, as one foolish citizen jeered in his face about how pathetic he looked in chains. Thor’s grip on Mjølnir tightened but he paid no attention to the idiotic Aesir. Loki settled for tripping him as they passed, and smirked at the satisfying crack of the man’s face on the cobbles. 

He didn’t have much time to admire the palace before he was extracted from Thor’s side and marched down to a cell. 

 

Loki had only been down to the dungeons a few times in all his long years of life. When he and Thor were children, Odin had brought them down to show them how treasonous citizens were dealt with. (Loki had hated it; the cells were too bright and the place practically reeked of mistreatment and false accusations.) 

As Thor and Loki grew older and Loki’s older brother started bringing in the prisoners himself, Loki would accompany him in his escapades to interrogate those he captured. He always pitied the poor souls who were stuck behind the glowing gold barrier spells, cut off from the rest of the universe, sometimes shoved in with two or three other prisoners, depending on how crowded the prison was. Loki had never imagined that he would be behind those same barriers one day. 

The cell he was unceremoniously dumped into was big enough to pace around it, and not much else. The walls, floor, and ceiling were barren, so Loki amused himself by toying with his seidr - which thankfully still worked in the cell -, reciting old legends to himself, and as he got progressively more bored, making up stories for the other prisoners who were imprisoned alongside him. 

 

Months of sitting alone in his cell, with nobody to talk to except the clones he made, slowly going mad from seeing the same sights day after day, and now finally, Odin wishes to see him. As if he had a choice in the matter. 

 

Typical.

 

The leader of the guards - recognizable by his golden helm - waves a hand over the runes carved into the exterior of Loki’s cell. The golden barrier crumples in on itself and Loki practically launches himself out of the cell, desperate to be anywhere other than the blinding white confines that have been his home for the past indeterminate amount of time. One of the guards, a boy hardly older than Loki’s twins were when they met their fate, steps forward, holding the familiar pair of shackles. Loki rolls his eyes in contempt but allows the boy to lock the shackles in place. They’re clearly not taking any chances with him, and Loki’s not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed, for a few minutes later, a matching pair of cuffs have been secured around his ankles. A heavy chain connects the two pairs of shackles, as well as an iron collar they fasten around his neck. As if it can’t get any worse, just when he thinks they’re done, the boy locks a metal lead around his waist, and him and one of his companions take hold of two attached chains. He feels ridiculous as his entourage - all of whom share no words as they walk - lead him like a dog to the throne room. 

The chains clank as he shuffles along and Loki wonders how effective it would be if he suddenly yanked on his shackles. If he could send the guards flying and make an escape.  _ Probably not _ , he decides. And even if that worked, he might get four tiny steps in before tripping and knocking himself out. 

 

The throne room is just as grand and obnoxiously elegant as Loki remembered. The golden pillars shine bright, every small carving brought to life by the constant movement of shadows across the gleaming surface. The mosaics that patten the ceiling are vibrant as ever. Loki bristles at the sight of his own mosaic. His painted miniature is standing proudly alongside the royal family, as though it does not know that his very existence is a lie. 

 

Oh, how Loki wishes to plunge a dagger right into the pretentious painting and watch it crumble to dust.

 

He keeps his head held high as he strides down the chamber, aware of all the eyes following him. There’s Odin, seated regally upon his throne, draped in furs and dressed in golden armour. He holds Gungnir in one hand, the other resting on the side of the throne. Loki diverts his attention away from the man he’d called his father for so long, and his eyes fall upon Frigga, who stands at the base of Odin’s throne. She’s watching Loki approach with a deep sadness in her eyes, and Loki suddenly hates himself for ever causing her pain. Of all the people who lied to him about his parentage, Frigga is the one person Loki could never hate. She never looked down on him, never scorned him for not being as strong as Thor. She may not be Loki’s birth mother, but he still reveres and respects her. 

“Loki Laufeyson,” Odin rumbles. His voice cuts through the hall like a knife, sending chills down Loki’s spine. The old king has no warmth in his eye as he examines the man he used to call his son. 

_ Laufeyson _ . Loki grimaces at the word. Never has he held such hatred at a name, let alone his own. As Loki Odinson, he was a prince. A member of royalty, to be revered and respected. As Loki Laufeyson, he was little more than a monster in disguise. The bastard son of a creature long feared by the Aesir. 

“Your time of judgement is upon you. Have you any words that might introduce doubt into how you should be punished?”

“Nothing that I may say will change your opinion of me,” Loki responds coolly. “You have already chosen a sentence for me. Even if I were to get down on my knees and grovel at your feet, you would still show no pity.”

Odin leans forward. “Do you expect me to take pity on the man who tried to wipe out an entire race?”

Loki flinches. “I was only doing what I thought was right at the time.”

Odin sits back against his throne. “Millions of Jotuns could have died, and you would be to blame, Loki.”

“Yes, thank you, Allfather, for your wisdom,” Loki drawls. “I never thought about that.”

Off to the side, Frigga puts her face in her hands. 

“In your eyes,” Odin continues, “What would be a fair punishment for your actions?”

Loki smiles darkly. “Allfather, nothing you could do to me could even compare to the horrors I faced after you so carelessly threw me into the abyss.”

Odin narrows his eye. “It was your own actions that led you to fall, Loki.”

Loki laughs without mirth. “So you  _ didn’t  _ tell me I wasn’t good enough?”

That causes Odin to falter. “Loki, that is not what happened.”

“So I am just imagining it, then? How carelessly you tossed me aside?” Loki growls, curling his hands into fists. Odin fixes Loki with a cold stare, and Loki promptly shuts his mouth as the Allfather goes on. “Loki, I have spoken with Thor about the events that unfolded on Midgard. He tells me that you did all you could to prevent the attack on the human city, and when you led the invasion, your mind had been compromised. Is this true?”

Loki shrugs. “That is more or less what happened, yes.”

Odin considers this. The hall is silent as the king ponders his options. Frigga finally meets Loki’s eye, and it takes all of his willpower not to run to her and let her comfort him like she did when he was a child. He straightens his back and sets his jaw, trying to at the very least show her that he is not afraid. 

 

“I have made my decision,” Odin announces, tearing Loki’s attention off of his adoptive mother. “Your actions on Midgard will not be held against you. It would be unfair to blame you for the deeds of another.”

_ Thank the Norns,  _ Loki thinks, relieved. 

Odin continues. “However, I cannot overlook what you did here on Asgard. You misused the power of the throne in order to seek petty vengeance on your birth father, which resulted in attempted mass genocide of an entire race. You committed treason by allowing the enemy onto our soil, and then nearly started a war after deceiving and killing their king. It is these actions that I condemn. Loki, son of Laufey, former heir to the throne of Asgard, I hereby sentence you to seven hundred years in Asgard’s dungeon. I will allow you to keep your seidr, and will listen to arguments for temporary release after the first hundred years of your time has been served.” 

Loki stares at him. His blood has run cold at the thought of living in those bleak dungeons for seven hundred years. “You would punish me in this way after Thor was only banished for a few  _ days _ ? After doing practically the same thing? My, my, Allfather, you are truly more hypocritical than I thought.”

Odin ignores the jab and slams the butt of Gungnir into the ground. The sound rings out through the hall, sealing Loki’s fate with a simple gesture. “My decision is final. You are dismissed.”

“My love, aren’t you being a little too cruel?” Frigga protests. Odin looks over at his wife. “This is the only way for him to be pardoned,” he explains. “The Jotuns would have my head if I did not punish him severely.”

Frigga closes her eyes and murmurs something under her breath. “It is alright, mother,” Loki says quietly. “Do not fret over me.”

Frigga smiles sadly, and doesn’t say anything else. Loki dips his head at the king and queen as the guards begin to lead him away. 

 

“Loki,” Odin calls after him. Loki stops in his tracks and shoots an icy glare over his shoulder. Odin is watching him leave with an almost pained expression. “You were right. I was a fool. Letting you fall is my deepest regret. Not a day goes by where I don’t wish I had done something more. I am truly sorry, my son.”

Loki snorts. “I care not for your pathetic apologies, old man. And I am  _ not  _ your son.” Loki smiles wickedly. “You have made that abundantly clear.”

 

He starts walking again, making it apparent that the conversation is over. 

 

***

 

News of Loki’s sentence spreads like a wildfire, and pretty soon the whole of Asgard is chatting about the disgraced former prince, left to waste away in the dungeons. 

 

“I heard he went mad and tried to kill Odin,” claims the shopkeeper of a marketplace armoury. “Don’t be ridiculous,” retorts her friend. “He’s been framed for it all. Something about the queen not being faithful and the king is taking revenge, probably.”

 

“Honestly, I’m not in the surprised in the slightest,” remarks a castle servant, as she folds a set of bedclothes. “That Loki always gave me the shivers. Didn’t trust him. Not one bit.”

“He was an odd one,” her partner agrees. “And such a disappointment, compared to his brother. I mean, the queen had to teach him magic just so he wouldn’t die as soon as he set foot on the battlefield! Can you imagine?”

 

“I knew him when he was younger,” says the head of the Valkyries. “He was an odd kid, but not a bad one. Sure, he creeped me out, and maybe I didn’t want him around- er, around my fellow sisters in arms, but he was never  _ evil _ . There must be some other aspect we don’t know about.”

 

“Serves the psycho little bugger right,” chuckles Volstagg. Fandral shoots him a disapproving look. “That’s enough. He is still Thor’s brother.”

“He’s dangerous,” Sif points out. “It’s for the best he’s been locked up. Who knows what he could’ve done on Midgard if Thor hadn’t brought him home.”

“Kill them all, probably!” Volstagg chortles. “Quiet!” hisses Hogun. They all turn to see Thor standing in the doorway, and promptly fall silent in shame. 

 

***

 

“What do they say of me?” Loki asks, when Frigga approaches his cell. “Do they mock?”

“Yes,” Frigga admits. “It is painful to hear them speak so crudely of you.”

Loki laughs coldly. “They always have, mother. You can just hear them now.”

“My child,” Frigga sighs. Loki raises an eyebrow. “Mother, do not try and object. I have heard the things the locals have said about me all my life. That is what I get, after all, for being so...different, from my- from Thor.”

“Loki, Thor is still your brother,” Frigga tells him. “Even though you were born to different parents. Just as I am still your mother.”

Loki’s lips twitch up in a half smile. He starts to pace the length of his cell. 

“How are you liking your new furnishings?” Frigga says. The tone of her voice makes it obvious she’s trying to keep the situation light. “They’re...very lavish,” Loki replies. “But thank you. For the books, in particular. There isn’t a lot to do in here.”

“No,” Frigga agrees. 

Silence. Loki takes a seat on the settee, crossing his ankles over one of the armrests. He folds his hands beneath his head and gazes up at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. Frigga tugs her golden cloak tighter around her shoulders. She knows her adopted son well enough to see when he’s hurting - in fact, she’s the only person who can see through all his facades. And right now, he’s put up many. The first one anybody could see past- he’s furious with Odin for locking him up. This one’s disguised as a calm, almost meditative state, but the storm is raging behind the thin mask. The second one is unexpected - he’s homesick. Frigga knew he had taken refuge on Midgard, and judging from the way he weathers the pages of myths written by humans, how he sketches photos of parks and buildings from Midgard, he misses it. The third is hidden just below the second one, for it’s not too different. He’s missing someone in particular as well. She can see this in the longing in his eyes, and recognizes it from years ago, when he fell for the tailor’s daughter. He had assumed she didn’t know, but, well, a mother always finds out. 

“Tell me about Midgard,” she suggests. Loki turns his head sharply. “Why?”

“Because I can see how much you long to go back. I’d like to know how this planet of mortals stole your heart.”

Loki smiles wanly. “If you insist,” he sighs. Frigga delicately sits down on the steps outside of Loki’s cell and tucks her skirts beneath her. Loki starts from the beginning, recounting in detail his first meeting with Tony, and the ball, and how intelligent his friend was. He leaves out the parts where Tony kissed him, and the few days they spent as...whatever they were. Frigga’s smiling knowingly by the end. “This Anthony…” she notes, and Loki wants to pitch himself off of the top of the palace because of  _ course  _ she’s already figured it out, “You took him as a lover, yes?”

Loki purses his lips and pointedly doesn’t look at her. 

“Loki,” Frigga presses.

“Yes,” Loki mutters. “He was. My, ah,  _ lover. _ For a short period of time.”

Frigga leans back against the cell’s pillar. “You miss him.”

“Obviously,” Loki snaps, then flinches. “I’m sorry. I should not have- thinking about him makes me…”

“Upset?” Frigga suggests.    
“More than that,” Loki murmurs. “ _ Torn apart  _ may be an apt description.”

Frigga wishes she could reach through the barrier to comfort her son. He may still look like a prince, but his spirit is quickly withering away. “I’m so sorry,” she says. Loki hides his eyes behind his arm in what looks like a casual motion, but Frigga suspects is a way to prevent her from seeing his tears. 

 

_ The Norns are cruel,  _ she thinks.  _ The poor child has already seen so much pain in his life. Why do they still take from him? Has he not suffered enough? _

 

***

 

If one more person, no matter who they may be, came by and stood outside Loki’s cell to gawk at him as if he were a particularly interesting animal, Loki may just lose his mind. On several occasions, he’s woken up to see a group of guards staring at him and whispering. It only took a quick flash of seidr and an angry glare to drive them away, but  _ still.  _ He is  _ not  _ on display. Even the other prisoners, in the cells across the aisle, won’t stop glancing over at him. 

 

Frigga visits him almost every day, and when she doesn’t, Loki passes time by reading the books she brings him, or plays around with his seidr. But all that gets old quickly, for there’s only so many times he can create things out of thin air before he grows wistful of the outside world. 

He goes through all the books Frigga gave him, used practically every spell he knows, recited legends and stories told to him as a child, slept, and sketched, but none of this manages to stave off the increasing sense of despair looming over Loki. 

 

He’s miserable, to put it simply. He misses being free, and feeling the sunshine on his skin and the way his hair would fly in the wind. He misses the simple things, of lazy mornings spent in bed, of casual banter exchanged between friends. He realizes soon after his imprisonment that most of the things he misses aren’t actually on Asgard. Sure, he misses his wide open quarters, and the woods he spent so long in, but...everything else is from Midgard. He misses the technology he never understood but still adored, and the view of the city from his room. Most of all, though, he misses Tony. It’s a dull, throbbing ache that he can’t shake off, no matter how hard he tries. He wishes for Tony’s company, for his laughter, for his bad jokes and snarky personality. The pain of missing him is only made worse by the knowledge that Loki will never see him again. Tony will find someone new, maybe Pepper, maybe another woman he has yet to meet, and get married. Maybe he’ll have children. The years will pass and eventually Loki will become just another crazy story from his past, to tell at parties. Tony will grow old and forget the way he used to look at Loki, forget how they kissed, so desperately and lovingly, forget the laughter shared between the two of them, forget the life they could have had. Tony will die, as all mortals do, with his wife and children at his side, and Loki won’t know. Perhaps Tony’s legacy will live on, and through the children he may have, his bloodline will too. Maybe when Loki is released, seven hundred years from now, he’ll return to Earth. Find Tony’s descendants. Tell them the story of how their ancestor was once the lover of an ancient god. 

 

But then again, that would be too painful. 

 

On the eighty-seventh day of Loki’s imprisonment, he’s throwing knives at the wall. (They don’t stick, so all of them are just clattering to the ground in an ever-growing pile.) The dungeons are quiet today, for the prisoners have finally realized there’s no way out. Loki’s grateful, because now he doesn’t have to listen to their endless chants and yelling. 

He lets another knife fly from his hand. It hits the wall with an unsatisfying  _ clink  _ before joining the rest of the small blades on the floor. Just as he’s about to summon another knife, a searing pain shoots up across his right side, knocking the breath out of him. He doubles over in pain, and suddenly a blow to his head knocks him to the ground. Loki rolls onto his back, ears ringing, half expecting to see somebody standing above him, but there’s no one. He’s alone. His body is aching and he can vaguely hear what sounds like a woman’s cries, but nobody else in the dungeons is reacting. 

Loki coughs and struggles to sit up. The smell of dust and smoke clouds his senses, but his cell is pristine as always. Dazed, Loki heaves himself to his feet and limps over to his lounge chair, where he collapses.

 

Episodes like this keep happening. He’ll be minding his own business when out of the blue, a sharp pain will hit him somewhere in his body. Sometimes it’ll be small, like a light throbbing in his hip as though he’s just run into a table, and other times it’ll be bigger, like the first. No one else notices it, and when he mentions it to Frigga, she can’t come up with an explanation either. 

 

The worst one, though, comes barely a day after the episodes start. He’s curled under a blanket, reading a book on camouflage spells and curse, when all of a sudden the temperature in the room drops significantly. Shivering, Loki draws the blanket closer around himself, confused by the fact that he’s being affected by the cold in the first place. A sense of panic builds up in his chest from seemingly nowhere, causing Loki to stumble off the couch. He hears a faint beeping from somewhere in the distance, followed by a barely audible yet familiar voice, swearing loudly. The voice stops as the cold grows even greater and several shoots of pain blossom at various points in Loki’s body. Loki drops to his knees as an image of a snowy night flashes through his mind’s eye. Cold bites at his fingertips and Loki brings his hands up to see, to his horror, his Aesir illusion melting away to reveal the blue of his Jotun form. He frantically pulls his sleeves over his hands as the blue creeps up his body. His magic is useless as he tries to force his illusion back up. “Fuck,” he says through chattering teeth, “Come on, not now...please, work with me!”

And then he stops, as a voice echoes through his head. The same voice from a few seconds earlier. A voice that not, under any circumstances, be able to be heard here on Asgard, but there it is, as clear as it would be if the person in question was there in the cell with him. 

 

_ Loki? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, somewhere I can use my unnecessary knowledge about Norse Mythology.


	18. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony asks for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally meant to be one long one, but the full thing is like, really long, so I'm splitting it in two.

The first few days after Loki’s departure are the worst. Tony had been the last to leave the park after the two Asgardians had returned to their home world. Someone - Natasha, if Tony remembers correctly - had patted his shoulder and murmured an apology as she passed. He vaguely remembers getting back in his car and driving back to Stark Tower, although the memory feels false, like someone had implanted it. He’d driven by himself before, obviously, but he’d gotten so used to having Loki riding shotgun and flipping through the radio stations that being alone in the car just didn’t feel... _right_ . It didn’t seem possible that barely an hour before, Loki had been sitting beside him. That a few hours before that, he’d brought Tony coffee and kissed him enough times that Tony woke up. The few days they’d actually sorted their shit out and been - what? Dating? Boyfriends? Tony didn’t know _what_ they were - seem painfully short in comparison to the months they had lived together. The tower seems cold and empty without him. Tony lay awake at night at first, wondering what could be happening to Loki on his home planet. If he shuts his eyes, he’s plagued with horrifically vivid images of Loki alone in a cold white cell, growing more and more helpless every second. On the rare chance he _doesn’t_ dream about Loki, Tony is kept awake by the dizzying emptiness of the void he’d flown into mixed with the screams of citizens and the sound of Chitauri blasters. Two weeks pass, and Tony gives up on sleeping altogether. He spends his nights fixing up small things in the tower - repairing the coffee machines, replacing the light switches, updating the security systems. It helps keep his mind off of Loki, for the most part. Sometimes he’ll think he hears Loki’s voice, barely audible, and he’ll turn in surprise, but as usual, he’s still alone.

Three weeks pass. Slowly, progress starts to be made. The city starts to rebuild. Tony designs rooms for all of the Avengers in the newly christened Avengers Tower. He gets up the courage to return to the courtyard, where the scorch marks from the Bifrost are still visible on the cement. Tony doesn’t really know why he goes. Perhaps it’s for closure, or a false hope that Loki will be waiting for him. In any case, he leaves feeling a little better than he had prior.

 

The amulet Loki had given Tony still hangs around Tony’s neck, resting against the arc reactor. He’s discovered that if he gets angry or upset, the stone starts pulsing with a gentle green light, as though Loki is saying _Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,_ from thousands of miles away.

It’s a small comfort, and most of the time it just makes Tony feel even worse. He doesn’t mind it in the long run, though.

 

Four weeks pass, and the tower grows too lonely.

 

Five weeks after the battle of New York, Tony returns home to Malibu.

 

Six weeks after the battle of New York, and Tony stops waiting for Loki to come home.

 

***

 

After a while, Tony adjusts to Loki’s absence. Everything goes back to the way it was before Loki’s arrival, except for Tony’s heart. Tony goes back to his every day life, meaning he hides in the basement all day and eventually falls asleep at his workbench. Life goes on. The world keeps turning. The occasional villain pops up and Tony goes to fight them, sometimes with the help of the rest of the Avengers. Usually just by himself. He keeps building suits, each one more advanced than the last. They slowly start to fill up his lab and he builds a new system to store them. Pepper stops by regularly to share news of goings-on at Stark Industries. Tony learns about a woman named Darla from data management who keeps stealing the staplers, another incident involving a pigeon, and the time Pepper showed up to a meeting wearing the same suit as two of the other women there.

Seven weeks go by. Then eight. The nightmares continue. The house still feels empty. Going out suddenly feels like a chore, so Tony rarely leaves the house. He finds he doesn’t miss the busy, humid atmosphere of parties filled with drunk girls and the smell of sickly sweet alcohol. He certainly doesn’t miss waking up next to someone - or sometimes, depending on how into the party he got, more than one - person whose names he can’t remember. The realization that he’s “settled down” hits Tony at four AM, and he stares at a wall for ten minutes in quiet horror. It might’ve been less of a shock if the person he had settled down for wasn’t a fuck ton of light years away.

 

Love sucks.

 

A lot. But there’s not a lot anybody can do about it. There’s a moment in every person’s life when they look at somebody else and go “Yep, I want this person in my life forever”. Unfortunately, sometimes the Universe says “Fuck you” and blasts said person into space in the galaxy’s most glorified elevator.

 

Okay, maybe that particular scenario isn’t a great example.

 

But _still_.

 

Love fucking sucks.

 

At some point, Tony doesn’t know when, he stops counting the days since New York. The battle fades from recent memory, along with most of the scars obtained during the fighting. Tony scraps an idea he had for tracking energy readings similar to the Bifrost and instead makes a call.

 

He’s sitting at his workbench, staring at his own reflection in the screen in front of him as the video call rings. He’s combed his hair for once, and put on something other than a dirty t-shirt and exercise pants. (Okay, he’s still wearing the exercise pants, but he’s put on a clean shirt and a suit jacket. Whatever.)

Tony taps his fingers against his workbench as he waits. He double checks the lab behind him to make sure all the junk is gone and glares at the precarious towers made up of said junk. _Do_ not _fall,_ he warns them, silently, as if inanimate stacks of old parts can sense when somebody’s angry at them.

 

The call goes through, and Tony snaps his attention back to the screen.

 

“-it back! And be quiet, I’m on a call.” A pretty young brunette sits down in front of her screen on the other end of the call. “Doctor Jane Foster, how may I- oh. Oh, my god.”

Tony folds his arms together on the desk. “I feel like introducing myself is probably unnecessary.”

Jane is hastily stuffing stacks of paper off screen. “Yeah, I uh, I know who you are. Sorry, I was not expecting a call from-” She clears her throat and settles into her chair. “What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony taps his fingers together. “I’m calling for personal reasons.”

Jane frowns. “But we’ve never met before?” Her voice hitches up at the end and Tony can see her running a mental check to confirm that they have indeed never met before.

“No, we haven’t,” Tony agrees. “But we do have something in common.”  
Jane tucks her long hair behind her ear. “I mean, I suppose, in a way...we’re both scientists, and-”

“Yeah, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Tony interrupts. “I’m talking about your boyfriend.”

Jane laughs nervously. “Mr. Stark, I can’t see how my relationship has anything to do with you. No offense.”

“ _Thor,_ Miss Foster. The space viking? Likes hammers?”

Jane blinks, surprised. “How did you know we were-?”

Tony chuckles. “Long story short, his brother was my roommate for a few months.”

“ _Loki_?” Jane exclaims. “Didn’t he just try and take over the world?”

Tony flinches. “Technically, yes, but that’s not important. What _is_ important is that I need your help.”

Jane does a bad job at suppressing her skepticism. “With what?”

“Finding Loki,” Tony says casually. “We have unfinished business. Also, his father is kind of a dick and I don’t want him stuck up there with him.”

Jane stares at him. “You want my help finding the psychopath who just led an alien invasion in New York?”

Tony leans forward. “Miss Foster, I promise you, Loki is not what the media makes him out to be. New York wasn’t his fault. He’s my friend. I know you’ve had experience tracking the Bifrost. I _need_ you to help me bring Loki home. Just _trust me._ ”

Jane must hear the desperation in Tony’s voice, because she sighs and crosses her arms. “Alright. Fine. But why me?”

Tony shrugs. “Because you’re the only other person crazy enough - and smart enough - to try a stunt like this.”

Jane snorts. Her long hair flutters around her face as she shakes her head in amusement. “Fair enough. I have some equipment I’ve used to locate energy readings from the Bifrost, plus some prototypes for a long-range scanner that I’m hoping will be able to pinpoint the constellations and coordinates of Asgard. Only problem is that none of the prototypes _work_. I don’t have tech advanced enough.”

Tony waves a hand. “That won’t be a problem. I’ve got everything you’ll need. I’ll send a jet to come pick you up. Does tomorrow work?”

Jane hesitates. “Er, Mr. Stark, I’m currently in London, working on a new project. I want to help, I really do, but I can’t leave now.”

“Oh, alright then.” Tony taps his thumbs together in thought. “Then I’ll meet you there. Give me four days, I can pack everything up and come down.”

Jane pulls a notebook out of the piles of paper she pushed off her desk and scribbles something down. “Alright, that works for us. I’ll tell Darcy to expect you.”  
“Who’s Darcy?”

Jane rolls her eyes. “My intern. I should probably warn you, she’ll probably freak out when you show up. Be prepared to be bombarded with stupid questions.”

Tony grins. “Good to know.”

 

***

 

To put it simply, no one is pleased with Tony’s sudden decision to pack up half the contents of his lab and fly down to London. “Don’t worry about it,” Tony says, when Pepper asks him why he’s going.

“I just want a vacation,” he tells Rhodey, when his friend shows up at the airport to reprimand him.

“That’s for me to know and you to write pointless stories about,” he throws over his shoulder at the paparazzi who’s just asked him if he’s going to meet his secret lover. It’s always fun to find out who he’s sleeping with this week from tabloid magazines he finds at those little newspaper outlets beside the roads.

 

The plane ride is obnoxiously long and Tony starts to regret deciding to go in the first place. Three hours in, he’s grown antsy and starts making paper airplanes out of the documents Pepper asked him to look over. At the five hour mark, he’s drunk a good quarter of the alcohol from the minibar and has fallen asleep at his computer in the middle of a phone call with Pepper. (She hangs up on him shortly after; he starts snoring and it becomes apparent to her that he’s passed out on his keyboard.)

By the time the jet touches down, Tony has sworn a vow to never fly on a plane again. It’s raining when he debarks, raindrops beating the ground in a rhythm of nonsense notes that somehow still fit together. Happy, without saying a word, as he’s done the entire flight, passes Tony an umbrella before turning back to drag along one of the cases full of equipment Tony brought. Tony shakes open the umbrella as they pass through the airport doors, and the rain starts its little dance on the black fabric. It’s a lot colder than Tony expected and he’s already shivering in the suit jacket he’d thrown on. Ah, well. He can suffer through a few minutes of intense speed walking in the rain in order to get to the safety of the car waiting for him.

 

***

 

Jane suggests, over the phone, that they meet up the next day. Tony doesn’t express it out right, but he’s secretly relieved because at this point, all he wants to do is collapse on a bed and sleep for a full day. With Happy’s help, Tony piles all the crates of tech in one corner of his hotel room. Happy departs, leaving Tony alone in the massive hotel to sleep. The sun sets and it’s still raining, so Tony wanders around the hotel room, listening to the thunderstorm outside. He wonders, for a brief, hopeful moment, that it’s Thor, come to bring news of Loki’s wellbeing. _But_ , Tony reminds himself, _Thor would definitely pummel you into the ground before allowing you to come within a hundred feet of Loki, so he probably doesn’t care if you want to know how he’s doing._

 

Despite how long it’s been since he last saw Loki, Tony is still worried sick about him. He never got the chance to ask what Odin would do to him, so for all he knows, Loki could be chained to a rock somewhere. Or, Odin could have simply smacked him upside the head and given him a strict talking-to, and Loki’s really just living it up as prince of Asgard again. (Yeah, the chances of that happening are about as great as Tony inventing a time machine. It’d be great, but absolutely impossible.)

 

Tony doesn’t bother taking his shirt and pants off before falling face first into the mound of pillows on the bed. (Seriously, there’s _so many pillows._ Tony doesn’t have that many at home. He could probably drown in all of them. It’s magnificent.) He’s out like a light almost as soon as he hits the bed. Pepper would be happy. She’d been on his back for not sleeping. (“Don’t expect me to drive you to the hospital when you pass out from exhaustion!”)

 

The nightmares still come, of course. They always do.

 

_First, he’s standing in the middle of a street as explosions rage around him. He watches, powerless, as a Chitauri corners Natasha. The blaster can be heard a mile away, and Nat crumples to the pavement. A wail of despair echoes between the buildings as Clint rushes to his fallen friend’s side. He doesn’t make it. An explosion goes off right next to him. There’s no body this time._

 

_Tony watches as Cap grapples with a mob of Chitauri soldiers. He’s overrun and there’s a nauseating crunching noise as one of the soldiers brings its staff down over Cap’s chest. He stops moving._

 

_Bruce doesn’t stand a chance. He’s helping to herd civilians into the few buildings that are still standing. The last Tony sees of him, he’s throwing his arms over his face in an attempt to shield himself from a blast of shrapnel._

 

_Thor’s in the air when he meets his doom. Tony can only stand and stare in abject horror as the thunder god’s eyes glow too bright and the lightning strikes him from the sky. His hammer falls in pieces to the ground, sparks weakly sputtering from the shards._

 

_“Pathetic,” spits a voice. A cold hand wraps itself around the back of Tony’s neck. “Some heroes they were,” sneers Loki. “Gone, just like that. What a shame. I would have liked to have killed them myself. Oh, well.” His grip tightens. “You will have to do.”_

_He drives the scepter forward, and Tony hears the arc reactor shatter before everything goes black._

 

_Then, he’s standing in a wide open throne room. Loki stands in the center, bound in chains. He must be speaking to somebody, for his lips are moving, but no noise comes from them. The throne he’s facing is empty, as is the rest of the great hall. He looks worn, as though tired of having to speak. His eyes are dead inside his skull. Though he still stands with confidence, his regal air is long gone. Tony reaches out a hand to touch him, but it passes through Loki’s shoulder like he’s a ghost. Tony swallows and wanders around the great hall, examining it. There’s a grand mural sprawled across the high ceiling, depicting what can only be Asgard’s history. Bright pictures illustrate the lives of Asgard’s royal family. There’s Odin, recognizable by his great spear and eyepatch, standing next to someone Tony guesses must be Laufey, king of the frost giants. Thor, of course, shows up in most of them, always dressed in his red cape with his hammer by his side. The only place Tony can spot Loki is in the portrait of the family, where he stands beside Thor, clothed in green robes._

_Their surroundings bend and warp again, and suddenly Loki is propped up against the wall of a cell, absentmindedly tossing a cup into the air with one hand and catching it with ease with the other. He looks a little more alive, now. “Oh, and he is unbelievably intelligent,” he’s saying. “You should see the things he can build. He is...a magician. His power comes from metals and technology. I have never seen anything like his creations. Nothing on Asgard can compare.”_

_A woman with greying blonde hair and blue eyes smiles from her seat outside Loki’s cell. “He sounds lovely, my dear.”_

_Loki laughs softly. “He is, mother. You would adore him.” He turns his head and gazes at the spot from which Tony is observing him. “He always does find a way to beat the odds.”_

_Tony’s heart drops to his feet._

_This isn’t just a dream, is it?_

 

Tony jolts upright. A pillow falls off the bed and nearly takes Tony’s phone with it from where it had been left on the bedside table. His hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. He rubs at his eyes and glances over at the clock. 3:47 AM. Tony tugs at the amulet around his neck. It’s glowing again. Tony wraps his fingers around it and flops back into his ungodly mound of pillows. The white ceiling above him swims with shapes thought up by his drowsy mind. The green light from his amulet peeks out through his fingers and casts strange shadows over the bedroom. It mingles with the light already emanating from the arc reactor, resulting in a brilliant dance of blue and green across the walls. In the distance, he can hear the low drone of cars driving on the still-wet roads. A police siren wails from somewhere nearby. The air conditioning turns on with a low hum in the corner. This odd melody of sounds fills the air as Tony struggles to clear the intrusive images from his head. He covers his face with the hand not wrapped around the amulet. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, and gets out of bed. He staggers into the main living area and curls up on the couch facing one of the windows. The lights of the London skyline are enough to lull him back into a calmer state of mind. He must, at some point, have fallen asleep, because the next time he looks out the window, the sun is up and the city is already bursting with life.

 

***

 

The address Jane provided Tony with takes him to a small, flat building on the outskirts of downtown London. “You sure this is the place?” Happy says from the front seat of the car. Tony ignores the wariness in his voice and instead eyes the building. It’s seen better days, that’s for sure, but the windows are big and allow lots of sun through, and it looks sturdy enough. “Must be,” Tony answers. He opens the door, missing Happy’s objection. “Will you be able to grab everything?” He shouts at the closed passenger’s side window. Happy rolls it down. “What was that?”  
Tony gestures at the trunk. “The stuff. Can you grab it?”  
“Yeah, but-”

“Wonderful. Thank you!”

Tony spins on a heel and parades up the short flight of stairs that leads up to the metal doors. He scans the perimeter of the doors and finds the buzzer, which he presses. Inside, he can hear faint shouting and scrambling, followed by a louder exclamation of “I’ve got it!”. One of the doors is pulled open and Tony comes face-to-face with an unfamiliar woman, who, judging from her look of both awe and excitement, knew he was coming. “Damn,” she remarks, checking Tony out in the most obvious way possible. “I knew you were, like, hot, but I didn’t know you were _hot_ hot.”

“Darcy, I presume?” Tony says drily. Darcy grins. “The one and only. Here for Jane, yeah?”  
Tony dips his head. “Yep.”

“Gotcha. Gimme two seconds.”

Darcy trots away and Tony can hear her chattering to someone in a room not visible from the front door. She comes back a couple minutes later, Jane Foster in tow. Jane’s got the appearance of someone clearly trying to maintain an air of professionalism but failing miserably; this is apparent by the half-up, half-falling-out ponytail she’s rocking, and the wrinkled blue blouse worn with a pair of grey dress pants that are rolled up at the ankles. Tony recognizes the look because it’s what he constantly looks like the day after any sort of social gathering. “Hello!” She greets as she pushes past Darcy, who lets out a whine of complaint. “Please, come in. Would you like anything? We have tea, coffee...I’m assuming, unless someone drank it all…” She finishes her sentence with a pointed glare at Darcy, who whistles innocently and takes interest in a spot on the ceiling. Jane sighs. “Anyways. It’s nice to finally meet you, uh, face to face.”

“Indeed,” Tony agrees. “My driver’s just grabbing some stuff from the car. How bout a tour?”

Jane snaps her fingers. “Right! Yes! Tour. Follow me!”

She leads Tony out of the front hallway. Darcy follows suit, leaving the door wide open. “So I do most of my work in here,” Jane tells Tony, pointing into a large, sunny room with light blue walls and white curtains. The walls have all sorts of notes, pictures, and other assorted papers pinned to them in a jigsaw puzzle of ramblings that don’t make sense to anyone aside from Jane herself. “Excuse the mess.”

“Mine’s worse,” Tony says breezily. “Pretty sure I’ve lost people in there.”

Jane laughs. “Would not be surprised. Organization isn’t exactly up there in priorities when you’re deciphering the secrets of the universe.”

“Ech,” groans Darcy. “Are you two gonna be like this all week?”

“Worse,” says Tony, at the same time as Jane. Darcy “hmphs” and goes silent again. Jane keeps walking. “Most of my research is in there, but I keep any tech in this room here.” She opens another door, this one leading to a considerably smaller room, lined with tables that are piled with various devices, some completed, others looking like they’ve been bashed to death with a hammer. “I, ah, can get a little frustrated sometimes. I cleared a space for you just over there, and we can also set some stuff up in the living room.”  
“It’s not a living room anymore,” Darcy pipes up. “It’s just another lab.”

Jane tilts her head to one side, silently agreeing with her intern. Tony claps his hands together. “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

 

It takes half an hour to unload all of the tech Tony brought - probably longer, seeing as Darcy keeps picking up pieces from the boxes and marvelling over them, only to have them snatched away by Jane. (Tony takes a liking to Darcy. She’s...peppy.) Most of the equipment goes on the long white table Jane is letting Tony use, and the bigger parts are assembled in what used to be the living room. Darcy was right - it’s another lab. Even the old, patched up green couch is serving a new purpose as a shelf for stacks of multicoloured binders. They’ve been joined by Tony’s collection of illegal copies of S.H.I.E.L.D. files, helpfully stored in a battered Nike shoebox. Tony sets up a portable interface so JARVIS can join them in their exploits. Jane is polite to the AI, and asks him genuinely curious questions about how he functions and how he was created. Darcy, meanwhile, asks if JARVIS can watch people through their computer cameras. (JARVIS tells her he can’t, but that’s bullshit, because Tony _knows_ he can, even though he didn’t program him to.)

 

Once everything has been taken out of the respective cases, Jane’s lab looks a little like a post-apocalyptic garbage dump. Well. A very _sophisticated_ post-apocalyptic garbage dump. That has marked pathways and screens running tests on atmospheric disturbances. Also, half eaten sandwiches and mugs of coffee placed precariously atop stacks of files, hacked to pieces computer hardware, and a newspaper from 1994.

 

Tony feels right at home.

 

***

 

On one of the few nights Tony spent with Loki as lovers, the god had taken him up to the roof to show him the stars. At first, Tony didn’t get the point of it, especially since the light pollution in New York was so bad they could barely see the stars. As Loki spoke, though, the fog covering the stars seemed to disappear, and he told Tony about the stars back on Asgard. After that night, Tony could officially add “had a hardcore makeout session with a hot guy on the roof of my own building” to his list of “Weird Shit I’ve Done”.

 

All of that aside, it’s those same stars Tony finds himself under now, this time accompanied by a woman very much in the same boat as himself, another woman who keeps tweeting photos of Tony doing mundane things, and a guy named Ian who showed up and seems to be friends with Darcy.

They drove out into the country with Jane’s improved prototypes and waited for the sun to set.

“So, how did you manage to become roommates with Thor’s little brother?” Jane asks. Tony chuckles into his coffee. “That’s a really long story, actually. To put it simply, he crashed on my beach half dead and I took pity on him.”

Jane frowns. “Crashed? Didn’t he use the Bifrost?”

Tony shakes his head. “More like he fell off of it. His adoptive father kinda made him feel worthless and the poor guy just...let go.”

He hears Jane’s breath hitch. “He tried to…?”

Tony taps his fingers against his bright purple travel mug. “Yeah. Almost succeeded, too. I literally had to defrost him.”

Jane stares at the ground. “Thor just told me he’d landed on Earth. I always kind of assumed he was, well, evil.”

Tony pretends the comment doesn’t make him flinch. “I think there’s a lot of assumptions going around about Loki,” Tony says, choosing his words carefully.   _Most of them aren’t true._ “And a lot of them paint him in a supervillainy light. But I promise, finding him is the right thing to do. He’s been punished enough.”

His voice breaks on the last word. Jane catches it and furrows her brow, but is polite enough to not bring it up. The sky is relatively clear tonight, meaning the full moon can shine its silver light over the countryside with no obstacles. A few airplanes pass overhead while they’re there, but aside from that, they’re totally alone. The car is parked on a gravel road several miles out from any sort of civilization. The long grass rustles in a cool breeze, and it’s the only noise the team can hear, aside from the soft beeping of Jane’s cartography apparatus. Tony worries the gem in his amulet. It hasn’t glowed for a while, but Tony’s not sure how it works, so that could be totally normal.

 

“Anything?” he says. Jane fiddles with the dials on her device. “I’ve got a twenty percent match,” she replies. “Which is nineteen percent better than the last time I used this thing.”

“Did you use the equipment I brought to upgrade it?”

Jane smacks the side of her device. “In some parts. I’m still working on upgrading it.”

Tony nods in understanding and goes back to scanning the night sky with the portable interface he’s wearing.

“What does that thing even do?” Darcy asks suddenly, scaring both Jane and Tony half to death. She’s climbed onto the roof with them, apparently, and did so with no noise. “Christ, Lewis,” Tony grumbles. “Some warning would be nice.”

Darcy shrugs. “Probably. Anyways. Funky scanner thing Jane’s holding. What does it do?”

Jane passes it to her. “Maps out a chart of our constellations, then counts the spaces in between and guesses where other stars are. It’s a work in progress, but my hope is to be able to find Asgard’s stars.”

Darcy turns the small rectangle over and pokes at the screen. “How, though? Asgard is _literally_ in a different realm.”

Jane hums. “Yes, that’s true. Again, work in progress.”

“Neat,” is all Darcy says, before she hops down from the car to go kick rocks into the grass.

 

Six hours later, everybody except Tony has fallen asleep in the car.

 

***

 

Ten months, five days, and thirty two hours. On July 14th, at three forty-two in the morning, ten months, five days, and thirty two hours ago, Tony had been in his workshop when Loki had crashed on his beach. When they’d been together, time had gone by so quickly, and Tony had hardly realized time was passing at all. Now, every second drags on for an eternity. One minute on the clock feels like three hours. He busies himself with work, now, for fear of having another attack should he try and sleep. It’s dark outside and that’s all he knows. He’s focused intently on the screen in front of him, and doesn’t hear Jane enter the workshop from behind him. “You’re still up,” she yawns. “Are you alright?”

Tony pauses his typing. “Yeah. I’m fine. Can’t sleep.”

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” she asks, weaving through the tables to come stand beside Tony. He has a framed photo of himself and Loki sitting on his desk. He’d taken it just before the battle of New York, on the day Stark Tower was finished. It's the same one he looked at just before he was sure he was going to die in the portal, that day during the battle. It’s the only thing on Tony’s desk that has a clean spot of its own. Tony glances over at it as Jane examines the photo. “I am,” he admits. “A lot.”

Jane falls silent and Tony goes back to typing.

One minute passes. Then two. Then,

“You love him, don’t you?”

The clicking of Tony’s keyboard stops. Tony says nothing.

“You and Loki aren’t just friends,” Jane presses. “When you said we had something in common, you meant the fact that we’re both dating Asgardians.”

“What gave it away?” Tony replies, finally. Jane tucks her hands into the pockets of her purple fleece bathrobe. “Little clues, here and there. Your tone of voice when you talk about him. How defensive you get if someone calls him evil. The way you stare at that photo of you two.”

Tony sighs and puts his computer to sleep. “Alright, yes. Loki and I are more than friends. Everything I told you before is true, though. I did find him on my beach. He has tried to stab me. But we were also...close. Really close.”

Jane’s lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

Tony gives her a _why do you think_ look. “Everything I say out loud usually comes back to bite me in the ass. I don’t really want the whole world knowing I’ve been swept off my feet by the guy who blew up half of the biggest city in America.”

“Makes sense,” Jane admits. “But also, I’m dating Thor. If you needed to talk about your relationship, I’m pretty sure I’m a good candidate.”  
“You are,” Tony agrees. “And honestly, I have no idea how you can be dating Thor. He’s so...so…”  
“Dramatic?” Jane suggests. Tony snorts. “You clearly have not met his brother. But yeah, that works.”

Jane shrugs. “I can’t see how you can date Loki. It’s all a matter of taste, I guess.”

“True.”

Silence.

“So, Asgardians, huh?”

Jane laughs. “Stupidly charming? Old fashioned in the good way?”

“That’s them,” Tony chirps.

Jane pulls up one of the chairs left in the middle of the lab. “So did he woo you or was it the other way around?”

Tony chuckles as he hides his eyes behind his hand. “I honestly have no idea. I’d like to think it was me, but then again, he did slap me when I made the first move, so…”

Jane widens her eyes. “He slapped you?”

“My fault,” Tony says quickly. “It was totally out of the blue. I deserved it. And shockingly, that was the least fucked up thing that’s happened in our wild ride of a romance.”

“Yeah? Do tell.”

Tony leans on his desk with his hands. “Well, there was the time I thought I killed him, so I flew into a wormhole, and then it turned out he _wasn’t_ dead but he thought _I_ was dead, so he used some weird spell to bring me back.”

Jane stares at him. “Oh my god. Yeah, that is pretty messed up.”

"You've got no idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao do you think Loki could play chess with himself or something when he's alone? Like just summon up a clone or something?


	19. Fate is Cruel

_ Simulation failed. Restarting program.  _

 

_ System error - program unable to reset. Initiating system reboot.  _

 

“Are you  _ fucking  _ serious!” Tony smashes a fist against the keyboard, causing a jumble of letters to write themselves into the terminal.

 

_ Error: Unknown command.  _

 

“Ah, fuck off,” he mutters. The computer in front of him whirrs and a loading window pops up. Tony props his head up on his hand and waits for it to finish restarting the simulation he’s been working on for the past two weeks. Not that it’s actually done anything except cause him grief and a lot of almost broken keyboard incidents. He’d gotten the idea during an all-nighter he pulled with Jane and Darcy, in the middle of a game of garbage can basketball. The basic breakdown was essentially to figure out how the Bifrost worked - magic would, of course, be the answer, but behind every spell, every flicker of energy, there was a swackload of science just waiting to be discovered. Using the energy readings from both the New Mexico incident and the New York departure, Tony had gone about creating a computer simulation that would run through various scenarios and try to find a way to replicate the Bifrost’s powers.

Was it complete horseshit with almost no chance of working? Damn right it was. 

 

Does that mean Tony’s going to give up? No freaking way. He’s Tony fucking Stark. He’s going to do whatever he wants. 

 

Even if it means bashing his head against a table after the one hundred and sixtieth try. 

 

Ah, well. At least he’s been able to keep himself occupied.

 

In all honesty, though, being able to come to London and chat with a fellow scientist-slash-sort-of-in-law about their respective lines of work and the pros and cons of dating Old Norse gods has been the best thing to happen to Tony ever since he and Loki finally sorted their shit out and started a relationship. Jane’s clever, quick-witted, and stubborn. Three qualities Tony has himself, and respects in others. Usually. 

It’s nice, though. To have a friend who understands exactly what Tony has to deal with. 

 

The computer finishes its reboot and the application reopens, ready to be poked and prodded for a few more hours before undeniably shutting down the moment Tony tries to run the program again.

Tony gets up and puts the computer to sleep. That’s enough stressing over that for one day. 

He’ll get back to yelling at the computer later, when it’s six in the morning and he’s had enough coffee to be able to see through time. 

 

Jane pops her head in around the doorframe. “Hey, Tony? Darcy, Ian and I are heading out to grab a bite to eat. Want to join us?”   
Tony throws an annoyed glare at the computer beside him. “Anything to stop me from putting my fist through this godforsaken thing.”

Jane chuckles. “Still giving you a hard time?”

Tony groans. “I wish I was less clever. Really. It’s a curse. I’m stressed out by my own genius. I hate it.”

Jane rolls her eyes in such a dramatic fashion, Tony knows Loki would be proud. “Sure you do.”

Tony grins and snatches up his glasses from his desk. “Where are we going?”

“Ian found a great little sushi joint about twenty minutes from here,” Jane tells him as they walk out of the lab together. “Thought it might be worth a try, seeing as all the good restaurants within walking distance are probably getting concerned with how often we show up.”

“You are absolutely right,” Tony agrees. “I’ll meet you there?”

“That works,” Jane replies. 

 

***

 

Sometimes, Tony wishes he was less recognizable. Like right now, when he’s trying to enjoy lunch with a couple of friends and the majority of the restaurant is staring at him. Usually, he’s all for the attention. Loves it. Takes advantage of it, on occasion. But right now, while he’s shoving spring rolls into his mouth and stealing sashimi off of Darcy’s plate? He wishes he were invisible. 

 

Darcy stabs at him with her chopsticks and returns his thievery by snatching one of Tony’s spring rolls. Jane smacks Tony’s shoulder and then throws a crumpled up napkin at Darcy. “We are in public,” she scolds them. 

“And he’s being a dick,” Darcy mumbles back, around a mouthful of food. Jane wrinkles her nose. “What are you, five?”

Darcy swallows. “Yes,” she says flatly. “Obviously.” 

Jane flicks another piece of garbage at her. Darcy sticks her tongue out. 

“So, we going to check out that anomaly you got the call about today?” Tony asks, spearing another roll on his chopstick. Jane nods. “I think so, yeah. You guys alright with that?”

Darcy shrugs. “I don’t have anything better to do, so yeah. I’m in.”

Ian, who has said very little since they sat down, nods. “Hey, where you guys go, I go.”

Tony reaches across the table - which spurs a loud protest from Darcy - and pats him on the shoulder. “First adventure, right? Never encountered aliens before?”

Ian hesitates before shaking his head. “No, sir. Just seen them on TV. Must’ve been pretty cool to be in the midst of that battle, though, right? Blasting those martians left and right?”

Tony gives a nonchalant wave of the hand. “Yeah, sure. Super cool. But let’s just say we’re lucky to be dealing with Asgardians, and not the Chitauri. Asgardians are nice. Chitauri not so much.”

Darcy clacks her tongue in disagreement. “Eh, I dunno dude, that Asgardian that led the whole New York debacle seemed like a nasty piece of work. Thor’s brother, right? What was his name?”

“Loki, I think,” Jane says calmly, glancing momentarily over at Tony to make sure he’s not fuming. 

“Loki,” Darcy repeats. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing, he is not a very  _ lowkey  _ guy. Hey? Get it?”

“Ha, ha,” Tony deadpans. “That’s hilarious. Please, do tell us more of your five star jokes. We’re all dying of laughter.” 

Darcy flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Shut up. I’m hilarious. But like, seriously, I think I have to sue Asgard.”

Ian blinks. “Why? New York was just the actions of one of them, right?”   
Darcy rolls her eyes. “Not for that, idiot. For the fact that all of them are  _ so goddamn pretty.  _ Like, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for a supervillain to be that hot. Did y’all see the photos posted on the internet after the battle? The guy looks like he models in his spare time.”

An image of Loki reclining on a couch and flipping Tony off while wearing a pair of Iron Man sweatpants and a battered M.I.T. shirt pops into Tony’s head and he has to suppress a grin. “Oh, yeah,” Tony intones. “He’s a regular America’s Next Top Model. He’s got it all - class, pretty eyes, perfect hair, an unquenchable thirst for world domination...what more could you want?”

Darcy hums in thought. “He’s also magic. Which is sick. I’m honestly kinda surprised he didn’t win - no offense. He just seemed so easy to defeat. Like, didn’t you chuck him out a window or something?”

Tony flinches. “Yes, thanks for reminding me of that. It’s wasn’t at all traumatizing.”

“But you defeated him in one on one combat,” Darcy points out. “How is that traumatizing?”   
_ Because I thought I’d killed the guy I’m in love with,  _ Tony wants to say. Instead, he crosses his arms and pretends to think on it. “Okay, imagine this: you’re summoned to your own house, which is supposed to be your one safe place, and when you get there, public enemy number one is waiting for you as though it’s a casual lunch date and he’s not in the process of enslaving the whole planet. The guy’s already a known psychopath, more powerful than anything or anyone you’ve ever faced, and all you have to defend yourself is a malfunctioning suit that’s seconds away from shutting down completely. When you try to reason with him, because his older brother begged you to bring him home, it fails and he attacks. Nearly brainwashes you, kicks your ass and chokes you, and just when you think things can’t get any worse, your weapon backfires and shoots him through a window, where he’s sent crashing to the ground. Was it thrilling to overpower him? Sure! Will I have a permanent fear of the bar in my tower now? Absolutely.”

He sits back and takes a sip from his glass. Darcy stares at him, conflicting emotions flitting across her brown eyes. “Okay,” she admits. “Yeah. That’s fucked up. Being a hero sounds a lot harder than I thought.”

Tony smirks with no humour. “Tell me about it.”

***

 

Jane had informed Tony a while back that it had been Dr. Erik Selvig who had called Jane and her team to London in the first place, but upon their arrival, he was gone and there was no trace of the signal he had found. Not wanting to miss out, though, they’d rented a lab and waited. 

The night before, Jane’s scanners had picked up the signal again, and sure enough, it was  _ incredibly  _ similar to the readings from New Mexico. Although the signals had died down shortly after, it was enough to spur the four into an excited frenzy. (Okay, maybe only Jane and Tony had gotten excited. Darcy had given them a thumbs up and Ian had just looked confused, but it was still a win to Tony.) 

 

Seeing as Tony had instructed Happy to return home, he’s been driving himself around, but for this trip, he’s called shotgun in Darcy’s battered red car. Darcy’s been booted into the back, next to Ian, who’s got the coordinates up on a revamped navigator Tony tinkered with. Jane drums her fingers on the steering wheel. “You know, I’m a little concerned about Erik,” she says. Darcy grunts in agreement from the back. “Why’s that?” Tony asks. 

“He went a little banana balls, after the New York incident,” Darcy tells him. “Straight up cuckoo. Paranoid, all hours of the day.”   
“Oh,” says Tony. 

Ian stares at Darcy, facial features screwed up in alarm. “What happened to him in New York?”   
“Got mind controlled,” Darcy answers mildly. “Our friend the supermodel supervillain brainwashed him with that badass scepter of his.”

“It wasn’t him,” Tony bites out, harsher than he meant to. “There was some other guy who had the scepter before Loki. He got killed, though. By Loki. The whole thing is a mess, really.”

Jane snaps her fingers. “Oh! Is that the guy who Loki defeated in Stuttgart? When he saved all those people?”

“Yeah, that guy,” Tony confirms. 

“Why would he save those people if he was just going to attack later on?” Ian wonders aloud. Darcy shrugs. “Publicity, maybe? Like, gain the people’s favour so he’ll be better received when he tries to take over?”

“I guess that would make sense,” Ian mutters. “Simply put, supervillains are complicated and Loki’s motive will never be known, I guess.”

“Yeah,” says Jane. “Anyways, where am I going from here, Ian? You’ve got the map.”

“Right!” Ian exclaims, as though only just remembering that the bright, obvious screen he’s holding does, in fact, have a purpose. “Uh...take a right here.” 

Tony sends Jane a thankful look. She pats him on the arm before proceeding to violently swerve into the next lane so she can turn. “I will never get used to driving in London,” she mutters. “I’m almost as bad as Darcy is on our roads back home.”

“Hey!” Darcy protests. 

“It’s true,” Jane shoots back. “And that’s why you’re in the back and not driving.”

Darcy rolls her eyes and snatches the navigator from Ian. “You’ve gotta turn left at the next light.”

“Couldn’t you have told me that when I was still in the turn lane?”

“No.”

 

***

 

“Well, we’re going to get stabbed,” Tony observes as they all disembark from the car. The navigator led them to what could very possibly be the set of a SAW movie. Or literally any movie or TV show in which somebody gets dismembered after they tell their friends “It’s okay, it’s abandoned!” or something equally as stupid. 

“I am  _ not  _ getting stabbed in the name of science,” Darcy mutters. Jane rolls her eyes. “We’ll be fine. We’ve been through worse.”

“I haven’t,” Ian points out. 

“No one cares, Ian,” Darcy tells him matter-of-factly. Jane rubs her forehead as though trying to convince herself that she  _ won’t  _ be the person who stabs Darcy and sets off toward the doors of the abandoned factory. Tony follows suit, leaving Darcy and Ian to lug the equipment they don’t actually need from the car.

 

The interior somehow manages to be worse than the exterior. Rust streaks the old tin walls, there are sketchy plastic sheets hung up all over the place, and there’s so much dust in the air Tony sort of regrets not bringing his suit so he could breathe a little easier. “J, have you picked up any signs of life other than us?” he hisses to the AI, who’s surveying the area from the interface Tony brought.

“ _ Yes, sir. I have detected three other human heartbeats. _ ”

“Shit,” Tony curses. Jane freezes. “What?”

Tony shushes her so JARVIS can continue. 

“ _ Based on heart rate signatures, I can determine that they are children, no older than thirteen years of age. _ ”

Tony gestures to Jane to lower her guard. “It’s alright. There’s kids here, but nobody else.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, one of the plastic sheets shifts and a young girl peers out from behind it. 

“Hello,” Jane greets her. 

“Are you the police?” She asks timidly. Jane shakes her head. “We’re scientists.”

Another child, a boy, joins the girl. “We just found it,” he tells them. Tony and Jane exchange looks. “Will you show us?” Jane asks. The kids look at each other. One of them nods. “Follow me.” 

He sets off, and Jane and Tony hurry after him. “Seriously?” Darcy complains, having just caught up with them. 

 

The kids stop at a cement truck that, upon close inspection, seems to be floating a couple centimeters off the ground. One of the boys walks over and hooks a finger under the bumper, lifting the huge truck into the air with ease. It starts spinning and the group stares at it, wide eyed. “That doesn’t seem right,” Darcy notes. 

 

The kids take off again, this time leading the scientists - and Darcy and Ian - up a stairwell. The air gets dustier and Tony sneezes. The light is watery and barely lights up the stairs themselves. One of the children grabs an empty bottle from the ground and drops it over the railing. They all watch as it falls a few feet, then disappears entirely. “Holy shit!” Tony utters. Jane kicks him in the ankle. “There are kids,” she warns him quietly. “Where’d it go?” She asks the kid who dropped the bottle. The kid waits for a second, then points up at the skylight, where sun is weakly pouring in. A few seconds later, the bottle falls from seemingly nowhere, and the four adults jump back in surprise. “That’s  _ awesome, _ ” Tony says, in awe. Jane picks up a can and drops it over the side. They all wait after it’s disappeared, but it doesn’t come back. “What happened?”

The girl shrugs. “Sometimes they come back, and sometimes they don’t.”   
“I wanna throw something!” Darcy exclaims. “Jane, gimme your shoe.”

Jane ignores her and pulls out the energy reader. It’s going haywire. 

“That’s definitely not normal,” Tony says as he peers over her shoulder. “And let me guess. The last time you saw readings like those was in-”

“-New Mexico,” Jane confirms quietly. She looks up at Tony, eyes sparkling. “We’ve found them.”

She takes off toward another flight of stairs. “Don’t touch anything!” She shouts over her shoulder at Darcy. 

“Jane!” Tony yells after her. “Oh for fuck’s sake- Jane, slow down! And Darcy, seriously, don’t touch anything.”

He runs off after Jane. Darcy turns to Ian. “Give me your shoe.”

 

***

 

Tony loses track of Jane as soon as he turns a corner. There’s a breeze shifting the dead leaves on the floor around, blowing in from the broken windows that line the upper walls. “Jane?” Tony calls out. Nobody answers. “Jane!” He shouts. His voice bounces off the walls, but still, no answer. Frowning, Tony takes his phone out of his pocket and hits the “call” icon beside Jane’s name in his contacts. The phone rings, and rings, and then  _ “Hello, you’ve reached Doctor Jane Foster. I’m sorry, but I can’t come to the phone right now. If it’s urgent, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” _

“Damn it,” Tony curses. He breaks into a run, calling out for Jane. After search the whole floor, he runs back to Darcy and Ian, who are still lobbing things over the side of the stairs. “We have a problem,” he pants. “I can’t find Jane anywhere. She’s just vanished.”

“Shit,” Darcy says. “D’you think she got swallowed by one of these wormhole things?”

Tony drags a hand through his hair. “God, I hope not. Maybe she just wandered off?”

“Probably not,” Darcy sighs. 

“Sadly, that's true,” Tony agrees. 

 

***

 

To be fair, letting Jane “science before safety” Foster run off in the direction of a mysterious and probably dangerous force was a poor decision on Tony’s part. They search the whole building for her, and the only thing they find is Jane’s key ring, which Tony discovers after kicking it loose from under a pile of leaves. Not seeing any other options, Darcy calls the police a couple hours of searching later. Tony gives her an earful about this, knowing full well the attention police involvement could bring. He hangs back in the building when the sirens start wailing in the distance, and gives Darcy instructions - and maybe a bribe - to not tell them he’s there. The last thing he needs is a story about how Tony Stark is searching for aliens in a rundown old warehouse. 

 

It’s lucky he did stay in the warehouse, though, because he solves the case of “What the fuck happened to Jane” by himself.

He’s kicking a rock down a hallway, listening to the sirens outside. He’s seriously regretting not bringing his suit, because a very strong feeling of dread is creeping up on him like a monster in a cliche horror movie and unless you count his companion, the small red rock, he’s unarmed. Dead leaves crunch under his shoes, adding to the freaky ambience the warehouse is already filled with. He sends the rock skidding across the floor again, where it hits the wall at the end and Tony picks up his pace to go fetch it. As he glances down the adjoining hallway, his gaze falls on a collapsed figure laying on the cold cement.  _ Jane,  _ Tony realizes, and sprints toward her, leaving the rock forgotten. Jane’s unconscious, but breathing steadily. This is apparent when Tony drops into a knee slide as he reaches her, and immediately he feels about ten times less worried. “Jane?” He says, gently shaking her shoulder. Jane’s eyelids flutter but other than that, she remains motionless. “Jane!” He repeats, more urgent this time. Jane is still for a few more heart stoppingly long seconds, and then her eyes snap open and she bolts upright with a gasp. For a split second, Tony swears her eyes are black, but he dismisses it as a trick of the light when she struggles for breath. “Hey! Earth to Foster!” He says, waving a hand in front of her face. Jane stares at him blankly for a moment before blinking and recognition pouring into her features. “Tony,” she coughs. “What happened?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Uh, I think  _ I  _ should be asking  _ you  _ that question.”   
Jane frowns. “I...I don’t know. I was here, looking for the source of the anomaly, and then...well, and then I woke up.”

“You can’t remember anything?” Tony presses. Jane shakes her head slowly. “No...why? Did I miss something?”

Tony rubs at his face. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Jane grabs his arm. “Stark. What happened?”

Tony swallows heavily. “Jane, you’ve been gone for five hours.”

He can see Jane’s mind blank in the way her eyes go wide and her face flickers through every emotion known to man. “What?” She stammers. “No. I just saw you guys, like, five minutes ago.”

“No, you didn’t. You went missing. Darcy panicked and called the police, which is why I’m in here, hiding from the authorities. Like I do.”

“Shit!” Jane exclaims, and Tony does not envy the lecture Darcy is going to get. “If the cops are here and they find out about what we’ve discovered, they’ll call the Feds, and then S.H.I.E.L.D. will be here Area-51ing the place.”

“That’s what I said,” Tony concurs with a flamboyant wave of both his hands. “But she didn’t listen.”

“Yeah, sounds like Darcy,” Jane sighs. “We should probably get out there. Tell everyone I’m not dead.”

Tony rises and dusts off his pants, then helps Jane to her feet as well. “Yeah, you can go out by yourself, because I’m not dealing with that shit today.”

“Y’know what? Good plan,” Jane agrees. 

 

Darcy is sprinting across the parking lot before Jane has even set foot out the door. “Where have you  _ been _ ?!” She howls. “We searched everywhere for you! I thought you must’ve died!” 

She skids to a halt just before sending both her and Jane sprawling. “I can tell you right now, I am just as confused as you are. My best guess is I got affected by another anomaly and passed out.” She crosses her arms. “Care to explain why you thought it would be smart to call the cops?”

Darcy has the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Hey, it was the first thing I thought of.”

Jane flexes her hands in annoyance. “Darcy, thank you for being concerned, but  _ please  _ remember that in this line of work, it’s more dangerous to get Government officials involved than it is to fix the problem by ourselves.”

Darcy shoves her hands into her pockets. “Right. Sorry. My bad.”

Jane pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s okay, just-”

“Hey, guys?” Tony pipes up from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “Hate to break up this touching reunion, but you might want to look around.”

The two women glance around and promptly give separate exclamations of surprise. Rain is beating the ground, soaking everything and everybody in the lot. Except for Jane and Darcy, who are standing in a perfect circle of dry ground, despite being under an open sky. Jane sticks a hand out a little farther, and cold droplets of water hit her bare skin. 

Tony doesn’t hear the rest of her conversation with Darcy, because he’s just caught sight of something much more interesting. 

Standing between two shipping containers, hammer in hand and cape blowing majestically in the wind he is no doubt causing (like the model he is), is Thor. 

 

An invisible fist wraps itself around Tony’s throat as he straightens up. “Jane,” he croaks. Jane glances over at him, frowns, and then follows his gaze to where it’s locked onto Thor. Her lips part in surprise, and then a smile breaks out across her face and she runs toward him, leaving Darcy to get doused by the storm, as the circle of cover moves with Jane. “What the hell, Jane!” she shouts. 

Jane doesn’t respond as she runs to her boyfriend, engulfing him in a bear hug. Thor returns it, and for a moment Tony feels happy for them, as they exchange words and a swift kiss. Then that feeling is burned away by the fury of how unfair the whole situation is. “Thor!” He shouts, storming out into the rain and not giving a single shit about how wet and cold he’s getting. Thor looks up, confused, and then tenses as he sees Tony approaching. “Stark!” He calls. “Why are you here?”

Tony comes to a stand still just inside the dry circle. He can feel his soaked hair lying flat against his head, and the cold droplets running in rivulets down his face. His wet clothes cling tightly to his body and okay, yeah, now he can understand why Pepper carries an umbrella everywhere. “Cuz I wanted to see you, genius,” he says drily. “I missed my teammate. Obviously.”

“Tony,” Jane says, dismayed. Thor touches her shoulder lightly to cut her off. “Stark, if this is about my brother, please know that I am truly sorry for having to take him home.”

Tony grits his teeth. “No, don’t- don’t say  _ home  _ like it’s Loki’s home, because it’s not. His  _ home  _ was here, and now he’s what? Locked up, I’m assuming?”

“Loki has been punished as our father sees fit,” Thor says tiredly. “He is in our dungeons, yes, but before you grow too furious, I must assure you that even I think Odin’s sentence was too harsh.”

“Thor, what did he do?” Jane asks softly. Thor avoids her gaze. 

“Hey! Dude! Tell me. What did your dad do?” Tony demands. Thor sighs. “I feel as though telling you may only spark an unnecessary confrontation.”

“Tell me,” Tony growls. 

Thor bows his head. “Loki was sentenced to seven hundred years in Asgard’s dungeons.”

Tony feels any hope that Loki was okay be ripped away from him in two seconds flat. 

“I tried to bargain with my father,” Thor continues, “But he would not listen. I have done my best to make sure he is comfortable-”

“In a jail cell?” Tony spits.

“-In his confinement. Mother and I have provided him with books and other means of amusement, along with furnishings, so he may rest in comfort.”   
Tony wants to be angry. He wants to yell at Thor, to fly into a rage, and scream at him, maybe even punch him right in that stupidly handsome face, but...he can’t. It’s not Thor’s fault. His body language makes it obvious that Loki’s fate pains him just as much as it hurts Tony. Besides, getting mad wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t make things better, and it certainly wouldn’t help Loki. “Good,” he says. His voice is hollow. “That’s good. You make sure he’s still being treated like a prince, alright?”

Thor smiles gently. “He misses you, Stark. More than anything, I suspect.”

Tony looks up at him. (Damn it, why are Asgardians so freaking tall?) “Does he?”

Thor nods. “Mother tells me he shares stories of you almost daily. You make him happy, Anthony, and I suppose I must thank you for that.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Tony shrugs, as nonchalantly as possible. Which, by the way, isn’t nonchalant at at all. “It didn’t seem like anybody else was doing it, so I thought, what the hell?”

Thor cracks a smile. “It is certainly nice to see Loki love somebody again.”

“Hey!” shouts Darcy, who’s running towards them, being viciously attacked by the storm that is still rumbling around them. “Is this you?”

Thor glances around himself. The rain stops and Darcy shudders. “Jeez, dude. Nice to see you and all, but please cool it on the waterworks.

“Uh, we’re kinda in the middle of something…” Jane starts. Darcy looks unfazed. “Um, I’m pretty sure we’re being arrested.”

“Hang on a second,” Jane says to Thor, and runs off. 

“Fuck,” says Tony, and decides that staying where he is is probably the safer option. Although, the awkward tension between him and Thor might just kill him anyways.They watch as Jane argues with the police officers, and when Tony looks over at Thor, he’s got an amused smile on his face. Darcy turns to Thor. “Look at you, still all muscly and everything! How’s space?”

“Space is fine,” Thor replies. 

More awkward silence. 

Tony coughs.

Another minute of awkward silence. 

Darcy whistles a couple times. Tony drums his fingers on his arm.

 

Across the way, one of the officers grabs Jane’s shoulder. In an instant, an explosion of red light rips through the parking lot, breaking the glass in the windows of all the cars and sending everybody sprawling. Tony is blasted back and hits the shipping container behind him. Pain spiders out from the point of impact and he slumps to the ground, gasping for breath. “Jane!” Thor cries out in alarm, rushing to his girlfriend’s side. She’s laying on the ground, dazed. Thor helps her to her feet, and she falls against him. Tony peels himself off the pavement and goes to make sure Darcy is alright. They’re both bruised and their ears are ringing, but Darcy isn’t listing off every swear word in the English language, so she must be okay. 

There’s shouting over by Thor and Jane and Tony looks over to see the understandably panicked officers warning Jane not to move. One of them is calling for backup into his radio. Thor utters something too low for Tony to hear and draws Jane close to him. Tony realizes what’s about to happen as Thor raises his hammer to the sky. “Wait!” he yells, limping as fast as he can toward them. “You can’t just-”

A column of blinding light crashes down to the ground, forcing everybody to shield their eyes. Tony desperately breaks into a run, and he’s almost there, he can feel the heat of the Bifrost, but just as he’s about to jump into the beam, it vanishes, leaving only the familiar scorch marks on the pavement. 

 

***

 

Rage does funny things to people. To Tony, it causes him to rebuild all the walls he thought he’d been able to tear down and pack up everything he brought to London. He breezes past Darcy and Ian in the lab, not stopping to say goodbye. 

In the car on the way to the airport, Tony texts Pepper. 

 

_ Text Message _

 

_ 5:38 PM _

 

_ Pepper - I’m coming home. Send Happy to the airport. Don’t ask what happened or I might just lose my mind. _

 

The ten hours Tony is on his plane can’t go by slow enough. He dreads touching down at home, because that means his break is over, and it’s back to avoiding people and lying to Pepper about his feelings. 

 

Fuck everything about this. 

 

Rage, like many other emotions, can be worn in different ways on the same person. Sometimes it can rear its ugly head in the form of smashed bottles, bruised knuckles, and raised voices. Other times it sneaks up and strangles its victim, poisons it with whispered thoughts of despair and disappointment. It causes the affected to act rashly, which usually results in unfavourable consequences. Like at the airport, when Tony angrily shouts at journalists asking about his trip and at one point, stealing and chucking one of their cameras onto the pavement. Pepper, bless her soul, is trying her best to A, keep Tony calm, and B, figure out what happened without outright asking. When they’re alone in the car, and Tony is glumly staring out the window, Pepper pulls out her StarkPad. “Tony,” she begins, and Tony immediately senses something is very, very wrong. He sits up straight and looks over at her, dread settling heavily upon him like fog on a cold morning. “What’s happened now?” he asks, voice tired and a little hopeless. Pepper taps something onto her tablet and passes it over to him. The screen is filled with headlines from various News websites, documenting several terrorist attacks committed by a man going by the name of “The Mandarin”. Tony has a vague recollection of a television back in London talking of the incidents, but he supposes he was so engrossed in his work looking for Loki he didn’t pay attention to the goings-on in the rest of the world. “Shit,” he breathes. “When did this all start?”

Pepper takes the tablet back from him. “Around a week ago? And that’s not all.”

“Of course,” Tony comments flatly. “Why would that be it? Gotta have more than one crisis going on at a time, right?”

Pepper huffs in agreement as she places her tablet on the seat beside her. “Does the name “Aldrich Killian” ring any bells?”

Tony bites his lip while thinking. “Uh, no. Should it?”

“Maybe,” Pepper informs him. “He’s a...businessman, I suppose would be a good way of putting it? He visited me at my office a few days ago, hoping to join our company with something called “Advanced Idea Mechanics”. I turned him down and he left, but there’s something about him that just doesn’t feel...right, you know?”

Tony leans forward. “Now that you mention it...the name does sound familiar. I’ll look into it when we get home, alright?”

“Alright,” Pepper agrees. 

 

***

 

Honestly, it’s a miracle Tony has lived as long as he has. With his penchant for making bad decisions and messing with the wrong people, he’s constantly surprised that one of these choices hasn’t ended with him in a morgue. So no one’s  _ really  _ surprised when, on camera, on live TV, he threatens the Mandarin as though he’s simply inviting him out for lunch. He barely even thinks about it until he gets home and Pepper is waiting for him on the couch, glass of wine in hand, with an eerily calm expression on her face that can only mean Tony is about to get the scolding of a lifetime. “Hello, Tony,” she says sweetly. She sets her wine glass down carefully on the table and rises to her feet. The heels on her black shoes click against the hard flooring of the foyer. “What’s up, Peps,” Tony says wearily. 

“Nothing much,” Pepper replies. “Only that you just  _ threatened a terrorist on live television. _ Care to explain what the  _ hell  _ you were thinking?”

“Honestly? Wasn’t really thinking.”

Pepper massages her temple. “Anthony Stark, you are the most  _ infuriating  _ man I know.”

“Thank you. I try.”

“This could get you killed! Actually, no, scratch that, this  _ will  _ get you killed. Did you think of that? Even for a second? Did you actually consider the consequences of your words or did you just blunder on like you always do?”

Tony shuts his mouth to stop himself from speaking.  _ She’s right,  _ says a familiar british voice at the back of his head.  _ Shut up,  _ he tells it. 

Pepper stalks away from him and stops in the middle of the room, where she rests her hands on her hips and taps the floor angrily with her foot. “Tony, this isn’t...this isn’t like New York, alright? Let the Government handle it. Please. You can’t jump to the defense whenever something goes wrong somewhere in the world. Believe it or not, you’re a person too, not one of your machines.”   
Tony paces towards her. “Well, damn, Pepper, it’s not like I can just take back what I said. I can’t exactly call up the Mandarin and be all “hey, y’know how I just called you out and invited you to fight me? Yeah, forget about it.” What’s done is done, and I’ll just have to live with it. Okay?”

“No,” Pepper says, voice low. “You’re going to die  _ because  _ of it.” 

“Peps, please-”

Pepper cuts him off. “Tony, just don’t. I can’t be here right now. I’ll...talk to you later.”

She brushes past him and Tony feels like he’s just been punched in the gut. 

 

Which is when, of course, the world once again goes to absolute shit. 

 

A dull thrumming fills the air, growing louder by the second. Pepper freezes. “What’s that?”

Tony frowns and slowly approaches the windows. “Helicopter? It sounds really close, though, I wonder-”

The realization hits him like a truck as the military helicopter drops into view across the water. “Get down!” He yells at Pepper, at the same instant as he activates the MK 42. The world goes silent as the first missile hits and fire rips through the air. He hits the ground, hard, on his right side, the breath knocked out of him. To his left he can see Pepper, fully enclosed in the suit, and he’s able to breathe easy for a moment with the knowledge that she’s okay. The smoke clouds his lungs as he struggles to breathe, and the world goes into fast-forward as he works to get Pepper out of the ruins. He vaguely feels himself falling as the second missile hits, head still cloudy from the first blast. Then he’s underwater, and there’s debris all around him, but hey, he’s wearing his suit all of a sudden, when did that happen? 

“JARVIS,” he wheezes, “Get me out of here.”

 

And then, Tony passes out. 

 

***

 

When he wakes, it’s nighttime. And it’s cold. Very cold. Also, there’s a little mechanical voice informing him that hey, the suit is out of power. 

 

Wait. Hold on. Backtrack. What was that?

 

_ Shit.  _

 

“Ah, fuck!” Tony shouts, as the flight stabilizers cut out and he starts to fall. “JARVIS? You there, buddy? Fuck, fuck  _ FUCK!  _ No, no, no, JARVIS, come on, help me out here, what’s happening?!”

 

“ _ All power has been depleted, _ ” JARVIS hums quietly. His voice is glitching out at odd moments, which can’t be good. He goes silent and the interface in the suit goes completely dark, leaving Tony freefalling, in the dark, alone. 

 

And then, suddenly, he’s not. 

 

Suddenly, he’s kneeling on the ground in a room that is too bright to be real, and his first thought is  _ Well, guess I died,  _ and then he looks around and realizes its less of a room, and more of a prison cell. Sure, there’s some comfortable looking furniture and stacks upon stacks of books, but there’s no doors. No way out. Only bright golden nets in place of bars. 

Tony looks back down at himself. His suit is gone, and so is...well, his body. Because this one  _ definitely  _ isn’t his. Whoever’s body this is, it’s wearing a green and black tunic. He looks down at his trembling fingers in choked horror mixed with dread as a deep blue colour begins to spread down from his fingertips and up his arms.  _ Fuck,  _ he hears himself say,  _ Come on, not now...please, work with me!  _

Except...it’s not Tony’s voice. It’s the voice of someone he knows, yes, and someone he loves, but not someone he should be able to hear. 

 

“Loki?” He says aloud, in his own voice. He hears a slight gasp, and then he’s jolted out of whatever weird first person out of body experience, just for a moment, just long enough to see Loki kneeling in front of him, hands raised in front of his face, eyes wide as they take in Tony standing before him. “ _ Tony? _ ” He chokes out. “You’re here! But...how?”

“Beats me, Reindeer Games,” Tony says, and oh, he could just laugh, because it’s been too long since he’s heard Loki’s voice on anything but video, and he’s  _ here,  _ close enough for Tony to kiss him, and he’s about to, but then-

 

Then, Tony’s eyes fly open, and he’s laying in a field, snow dusting his eyelashes, just as alone as he was in the first place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahahaha you guys thought I had put enough cliffhangers in? 
> 
> You were wrong. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Don't worry, I hate me too.


	20. The Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki wastes away in prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter isn't all that plot heavy, but the next one will be. I promise. Thank you all for sticking around through my bullshit!

“Tony? You’re here! But...how?” 

Loki stares, shocked, as Tony’s form flickers into view in front of him. He looks...well, exhausted, for one thing, and injured. His face is bruised on one side and there’s what look like burns on his hands. Despite it all, when he locks eyes with Loki, he smiles so widely Loki’s heart melts. “Beats me, Reindeer Games,” he says, jokingly as always, even with the obvious pain he’s in. Loki lets a smile creep onto his face too, because after all this time of being alone, lamenting his fate and regretting his past, one good thing has finally happened. 

The moment of relief doesn’t last long, however. Tony’s expression shifts to one of fright and the temperature in the cell drops again. The smell of mechanical smoke fills the air and Tony’s figure blurs. He fixes Loki with one last panicked expression, and then he’s gone, just as quickly as he’d come. “Anthony?” Loki cries out, as though it will bring him back. “No, Anthony, come back, please come back-” Loki scrabbles to his feet and flings himself at the golden barrier. “Let me out of here!” He yells, pounding on the forcefield with his undisguised, still blue hands. The magic burns his skin and he flinches in pain but doesn’t let it stop him. “Listen to me, you imbeciles!” He howls at the Einherjar guards, standing still at their posts. “Get me out of this wretched place!”

One of the guards briefly glances over and takes in Loki’s desperate attempt to escape. He smirks and rolls his eyes. Loki steps back from the barrier, fists clenched at his sides. He summons a dagger into his hand and with a yell, flies at the barrier, digging the blade into the mesh. The dagger burns red hot and the blade melts into the hilt. Loki yelps as the hot blade singes his blue skin and drops the weapon. He isn’t deterred, though, and summons more and more daggers until a pile of melted blades is smattered on the ground. Tears, whether from grief or anger, Loki can’t tell, are threatening to spill over as Loki desperately tries to break the field. At the doors, one of the guards nudges his companion and utters for him to fetch the queen. 

 

***

 

When Frigga heard that her eldest son had arrived on Asgard with his human lover, she hadn’t been entirely surprised. Confused, sure, but not  _ surprised _ . However, when a panicked Einherjar guard burst into her quarters to inform her that her youngest son was trying to escape the prison after several months of relative peace, she was more than a little concerned. She knows, of course, that Loki wanted out of his prison, but he wasn’t enough of a fool to attempt to escape the dungeons. “Have you any idea what caused it?” She demands. The soldier shakes his head. “No, my lady. He simply flew into some sort of frenzy and began shouting and attacking the barrier with a fierceness I have never seen.”

Frigga immediately sets down her journal and instructs the guard to lead the way. She hurries alongside him, running through possible scenarios that could have pushed Loki to this extreme. She comes up blank - her first thought was that another prisoner provoked him, but she had once seen her son blatantly ignore an entire crowd of jeering commonfolk trying to poke fun at how the young prince was following in his mother’s footsteps instead of his fathers. (It had taken a lot of Frigga’s own willpower to hold herself back from cursing the disrespectful crowd; what right did they have to taunt her son for choosing to learn magic?) So if it wasn’t another prisoner, then what could have possibly gotten Loki so riled up?

 

When they arrive in the dungeons, all of the guards stationed by the cells have formed a semi-circle around Loki’s cell, weapons drawn. The other prisoners of the dungeons are all crowded up against the barriers of their cells, trying to see what’s happening with the former prince of Asgard. The barrier keeping the mage in is peppered with tiny cuts that spit sparks at the stony faced guards. One large, ragged gash is visible right in the middle, and a pile of melted daggers is strewn around the forlorn heap that is Loki. He’s got another in his hand and is forlornly stabbing at the tear with it. Frigga pushes through the crowd of soldiers and kneels in front of her son. “Loki? Oh, my dear child, what are you doing?” 

Loki doesn’t respond immediately. He stays quiet for a good couple minutes before finally letting the knife slip from his grasp and join the rest of his destroyed daggers. “He was here,” Loki murmurs. “He was hurt, mother. I could feel it. I have to help him. Please, let me help him.”

Frigga shifts closer. “Who was here, Loki? What’s happened?”

Loki looks up at her with pained eyes. “Anthony,” he whispers. “Anthony came to me. He saw me, he was  _ here… _ ” Loki trails off and hides his face behind one of his hands. Frigga notices with a start that his Aesir disguise has partially melted away, leaving his hands and patches of his neck and face dark blue. His Jotun markings are partially visible, bright blue against the darker hue. “Anthony,” Frigga remembers, choosing to not bring attention to the affliction. “Your consort from Midgard, yes?”

Loki dips his head. “Tony,” he clarifies. “Everybody calls him Tony.” 

Frigga gestures for the guards to lower their weapons. “Tell me what happened,” she urges. “Perhaps I can help.”

Loki swallows thickly and pushes himself into a more comfortable position, with his legs tucked underneath him. “It began two days ago,” he starts. “I started feeling these...these strange pains, as though I had injured myself despite not doing anything that could have caused it. They started small, at first, but eventually grew into hallucination type experiences. It was like I was experiencing moments from somebody else’s life. But just now...it was terrible, mother. It was so, so cold, and I could not keep control of my disguise, and I could hear Tony, crying out in pain and then suddenly he was  _ here,  _ right in front of me. It was so real, mother. And now I fear that he is in danger, and I am trapped here with no way of helping him.” He once again hides his face in his blue hands, and Frigga can tell from the shaking of his shoulders he’s muffling his tears. “Deactivate the barrier,” Frigga tells the head guard. He hesitates. “Your highness, we cannot just deactivate it. He may be playing a trick.”

Frigga shakes her head. “No, my dear. I taught him everything he knows. This is no trick of his. He is hiding nothing. You will need to deactivate it regardless, in order to repair it. Now, shut off this infernal barrier and let me hold my son. That is an order.” 

The commander dips his head respectfully and paces over to the pillar on the end of Loki’s cell. He traces the runes in the stone and the barrier flickers a couple times before dying out completely. Frigga stands and climbs the steps into the cell, where she gathers her skirts around her and joins her adopted son on the floor. “Dear child, do not fret. I will do what I can. Come, let me dry your tears.” She gently tilts Loki’s head up and uses the sleeve of her robes to dab away the tears that wet his face. As she does this, she murmurs a spell and the patches of blue that dapple Loki’s fair skin disappear. “There. Good as new.”

Loki smiles weakly and allows Frigga to guide him into an embrace. She runs a hand along his black hair like she used to when he was small. “I promise you, my boy. Everything will be alright. I will speak to Heimdall and request he find your Tony on Midgard, to ensure he is well. Would that help?”

Loki nods. “Yes,” he whispers. “I suppose it would.”

Frigga kisses the top of his head. “Good. Oh, and before I forget...your brother has returned to Asgard. He wishes to see you. What shall I tell him?”

Loki sighs. “I highly doubt he will take no as an answer.”

 

***

 

A very small part of Loki had hoped that while the guards were repairing his cell, they would take pity on him and let him stay in his cell while they worked. Of course, if they had, then Loki would have shunned them for being foolish. Or, they would all be dead. Unfortunately for Loki, but fortunately for the soldiers, they were smart enough to restrain him in handcuffs and make him wait for the damage to be repaired elsewhere. 

So much for the escape plan he developed while sobbing on the floor.    
  


Not his proudest moment. 

 

Loki had, of course, been expecting a visit from his adoptive brother sooner or later. He didn’t look forward to it, but knew it was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before that blond oaf came down the stairs, apologizing for the wrongs “their father” had done and begging for Loki’s forgiveness. 

Oh, Thor. He really did try his best. 

 

“Well, visiting me certainly did take long enough,” Loki drawls, hearing footsteps coming softly down the stone steps of the dungeons. Too soft, actually, to be his brother. Loki sits up and rolls off his lounge. He pads over to the barrier, hands clasped behind his back, eyes narrowed as he surveys the young woman standing before him. She’s pretty, he decides, all slim figure and long, dark brown hair. She scans Loki with brown eyes that peer out from under long eyelashes. “Is there something I can assist you with, my dear?” Loki hums. “Not many people come down here, unless they lose their way in the palace.” His gaze flicks up the woman’s body, taking in the silk gown inlaid with silver plating she’s wearing. Royal garb. Aristocrat, perhaps? “Are you lost, darling?”

“No,” the woman says coolly. Loki blinks in surprise. Her voice is unfamiliar to him. Definitely not Asgardian. “Who are you?” He asks, tilting his head. “Unless...ah, of course. You must be Jane Foster. Yes, I had heard that my brother brought you to Asgard. Did he tell you that no mortal has stepped foot upon the soil of this planet for hundreds of years?”

Jane crosses her arms and takes a step forward. “I’m aware. Loki, right?”

Loki spreads his hands in affirmation. “Come to gloat, then? To mock me for my failure? Or, perhaps, to berate me for my assault on your Midgardian city? If that is the case, Miss Foster, then might I attempt to dissuade you by-”

“I’m not here to insult you,” Jane tells him. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’m here to make sure you’re okay. In the interest of a mutual friend.”

Loki scoffs. “Let me guess,” he mocks, turning on a heel and walking back to sit in one of the plush velvet chairs. “My dear brother has once again been too busy to come visit me, so he sent his consort instead.”

Jane shakes her head. “Actually, Thor doesn’t know I’m here. The friend in question is Tony Stark.”

The name hits Loki like a bullet. He scrambles from the chair and rushes back to the barrier. “Tony. Is he alright? Tell me, Jane.  _ Is Anthony alright. _ ”

“The last time I saw him, he was okay,” Jane says slowly, confused by Loki’s sudden outburst. “Physically, at least. The New York thing messed him up pretty badly.”

“That is understandable,” Loki murmurs. “He was not faring well, when last we spoke.”

Jane tips her head to one side in agreement. 

“Would you mind answering a question for me, Jane?” Loki asks, after a moment of thought. “Uh, yeah, sure,” Jane responds. “Shoot.”

Loki crosses his arms - not defensively, just in contemplation. “How did you meet Anthony? I cannot recall him ever mentioning knowing you, and that does seem like something he would have brought up to Thor.”

Jane brushes a lock of hair out of her face. “He tracked me down a few months after the New York invasion? Told me that he needed my help, my expertise around finding Asgardian energy spikes. He was trying to find you, Loki.”

 

Loki smiles softly and Jane’s shocked at how innocent he suddenly looks. It is weird, to actually meet him face to face. While Tony had painted Loki in a new light and had proved him to be much different than how the media portrayed the near-tyrant of New York, seeing him here, as a real person, was a little surreal to Jane. Thor had told her stories of the childhood he shared with Loki, but he had always described Loki as a shy, bookish type. Tony, on the other hand, talked about Loki like he was some cryptid, a creature of mischief and witchcraft, undecipherable. But Jane’s not seeing either of those in the Loki standing in front of her. He talks eloquently and with ease, certainly not shying away from the conversation. His eyes are glittering with a light best described as calculated curiosity, and he seems less like a god of chaos and more like some guy Jane would see in a bar, surveying the crowd like he knows everything about them and laughing to himself because he does. 

 

“And did he get far?” Loki asks, resting one shoulder against the outer pillar of his cell. Jane hums in thought. “We made progress,” she tells him. “Not as much as we would have liked, but that’s due to the fact I got kidnapped by a god of thunder and brought to the universe’s flashiest kingdom.”

Loki smirks. “The Asgardians do have a flair for the dramatic,” he agrees. Jane raises an eyebrow. “ _ The  _ Asgardians? What, are you distancing yourself from them out of spite?”

She flinches at the way the words come out. Expecting Loki to be offended, she’s relieved when he chuckles and grins. “In a way, I suppose. I no longer call this place home. For, ah,” he gestures at his confines. “Obvious reasons. But the main reason is that I am not, actually, Asgardian. I was born to a different family, and brought here by Odin when I was but an infant.”

Jane’s eyes go big. “He kidnapped you?”

Loki smiles ruefully. “Technically, yes. But in his eyes - or rather, eye - he was  _ saving  _ me. See, I was left to die by my birth parents.”

“Oh,” Jane says meekly. “I’m sorry.”

Loki shrugs. “I do not mourn over it. I do not and will never consider them my parents.”

“Fair enough,” says Jane. “What are you, then? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Loki waves off the last part of the question. “Don’t worry about it. I’m what is called a Jotun, or a Frost Giant, in your language. I was taught growing up that the Jotnar were monsters to be feared. I thought this of myself when I discovered my true parentage, but…” Loki smiles softly in reminisce. “Anthony taught me otherwise.”

 

“Loki, are you done spooking Jane?” 

 

Loki and Jane both turn to see Thor, standing amused in the doorway of the dungeons. Loki rolls his eyes. “Thor. What a surprise. You finally found time to visit. I’m honoured. Truly.”

Thor strides forwards. “Brother, I apologize for being absent. Father had me fighting battles in the rest of the nine realms. They’ve been in an uproar because of what happened on Midgard.”

“Because of me,” Loki says sullenly. 

“No,” Thor argues, “Because of the actions of whomever gave you that scepter.”

Loki scoffs and turns away, going to curl up on the closest seat. Thor wraps an arm around Jane’s waist. “What are you doing here, my love?”

Jane smacks him lightly in the bicep. “Don’t “my love” me, you dweeb. I wanted to meet Loki. And tell him how Tony’s been doing.”

Thor nods in understanding. “A noble reason. But please, Jane, tell me if you come down here. There are some…” he glares pointedly at the other occupants of the dungeons. “...Unsavoury folk sharing the space.”

“I can assure you, she is perfectly safe,” Loki sniffs, annoyed. “There is no way anybody else here could tear through these barriers. I tried and barely made a dent.”

“Loki,” Thor sighs, “I understand that being imprisoned is not ideal, but you cannot attempt to-”

“Not  _ ideal _ ?” Loki spits, bristling. “A situation that is  _ not ideal  _ is when you leave the house for the market without your basket. Being imprisoned is more than  _ not ideal,  _ you blundering fool!”

Thor winces. “Oh, dear. Jane, how about you retire upstairs? I can have the guards show you to the library, if you would like?”

Jane eyes the visible tension between the two brothers. Loki’s sprung up from his seat and is glowering at Thor through the barrier, and Thor just radiates plain discomfort and guilt. “Um...sure. Yeah, that sounds great,” she says slowly. Thor waves over one of the soldiers. “My good sir, please escort Lady Jane to the royal library. I assume you know the way?”

The guard bows deeply. “Yes, my lord. Come, my lady. Follow me.”

Jane presses a quick farewell kiss to her boyfriend’s cheek and hurries off to follow the guard. Thor smiles to himself and approaches Loki’s cell. 

“Brother, forgive me. I phrased that wrong. I meant no ill will.”

Loki scoffs. “It is not even that, Thor. I am angry because you have blatantly ignored me for the past few months of my sentence, even though I  _ knew  _ you were on Asgard. Brothers always know, right?” He snaps, echoing a conversation Thor remembers from eons ago, when they were children training for the battlefield and Loki had been trying to hide an injury. Thor flinches at the obvious barb. “Loki, I am sorry. I have tried to support you as much as I can, but my duties call and I have very little time for myself.”

Loki rolls his eyes and paces the length of his cell. “And how, exactly, have you been supporting me? Have you been sending me good wishes while you lounge in your bed? Or telling stories of us as children to show that you do not forget your poor, misunderstood little brother?”

“I have been making sure you are comfortable, Loki!” Thor snaps. He regrets the outburst almost instantly and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I am the one who has been sending you furniture from your room. I convinced Father to not bar your seidr when he sentenced you. I cannot do anything that would disparage Father’s rules, so I am trying my best to make you as comfortable as possible without committing treason. Mother and I are both trying.”

Loki exhales softly. “Thank you,” he manages. “I apologize for acting out.”   
“Don’t,” Thor tells him. “You have every right to be distressed.”

 

***

 

Now that Thor is home, Loki sort of misses the days when his brother  _ wouldn’t  _ come down and tell him animated stories of whatever patrol he went on that day, or other equally as stupid things that do nothing but make Loki miss the outside world. Thor means well, Loki knows this, but he certainly doesn’t understand that his attempts at keeping Loki company aren’t helping at all. That, and all the other prisoners have started complaining about Thor’s stories after the prince has left. It’s the only time Loki engages in conversation with them, and even then it’s usually just a grunt of acknowledgement or occasionally, if it’s the young woman across the hall talking, a snort of laughter. (She’s intriguing. Loki thinks her name is Dayna, but he’s probably wrong.) 

In any case, having the prisoners talk shit about Thor instead of Loki is a refreshing change. 

 

Jane Foster visits from time to time as well, albeit much less frequently than Thor. She sits by Loki’s cell, informing him how Midgard is faring and politely listening to Loki’s stories. Prison is still lonely, dull, and depressing, but it’s a little bit better now that he has people other than Frigga to talk with. 

 

Thor still hasn’t told Loki why Jane is on Asgard, despite her being there for a few weeks. Loki has his suspicions, but nothing concrete. He assumes he’ll find out soon enough, and as per usual, he’s right. 

 

He’s laying on his lounge chair, throwing a bottle up into the air and catching it when the ruckus starts. There’s a low rumbling, at first, followed by an outburst of screaming from one of the packed cells filled with outlaws Thor rounded up on Vanaheim. Loki snatches the glass ornament from the air and flicks his gaze over to see what’s going on. One of the prisoners, a massive warrior with a boar-like mask, appears to be on fire, and judging from the way he’s totally spazzing out, it is not a pleasant experience. Loki tosses the glass bottle onto the tall side table and gracefully slides off the green lounge. He paces over to the barrier as casual as one could be, unbothered by the actual massacre that has begun in the dungeons. Troops of Einherjar soldiers are marching down the steps, ready to subdue the escaping prisoners. The air fills with the sound of yells and the heavy scent of burnt flesh and singed hair, thoughtfully supplied by Boarface, who used another prisoner’s face to break free of his cell. (Turns out the fact he had been on fire wasn’t a bad thing for him; it was bad for everybody else.) Speaking of Boarface, the massive berserker has stopped his rampage right in front of Loki’s cell. Beady red eyes leer out at him from underneath the mask that has since been welded to his face.  _ He’s a Kursed,  _ Loki realizes, finally piecing it all together.  _ Strange. I thought all the Dark Elves had died on Svartalfheim.  _

He hardens his features into his best  _ God of Chaos  _ look, silently daring the Kursed to try anything.  _ Come on, beastie,  _ he taunts in his head,  _ do your worst. Break me out of here, why don’t you? I could take you down in a heartbeat.  _

The Kursed does the smart thing, and diverts its gaze.  _ Bastard,  _ Loki thinks sullenly as the monster stalks away. As an afterthought, just to taunt Odin, he calls out after the monster. “You may want to take the stairs to the left,” he suggests, voice like silk. The Kursed stops momentarily and briefly turns its head to shoot a glance in Loki’s direction. Satisfied, the former prince of Asgard turns away from the barrier in order to pick out one of the books in his steadily shrinking stack of unread books. He chooses one written in his native tongue, documenting the story of the first king of Asgard, and settles down by the barrier again, where he begins to read, totally unfazed by the battle currently raging outside. 

 

Thor shows up, unsurprisingly, and after attempting to calm the prisoners, flies right into the battles. Loki momentarily diverts his attention from his book in order to watch his brother deliver a truly beautiful blow with Mjölnir directly into a prisoner’s face. The poor guy crumples to the floor, thick blood pooling from the mess that used to be his head.  _ Fucking disgusting,  _ says Tony’s voice in Loki’s head. Not his real voice, mind you. Just the little inner monologue Loki’s mind spun together from bits and pieces of things Loki had heard his lover say at some point. 

_ I’ve done worse,  _ Loki’s _actual_ inner monologue replies smoothly, and he returns to reading. 

 

***

 

Funny how one little choice can have such an impact on one’s life. Like how choosing to attend that banquet ended in Loki meeting his future wife. Or how going to Stuttgart spurred the chain reaction that ended with Loki in this very prison cell. Sometimes, not very often, Loki acted brashly. He would say something that would result in somebody getting hurt, usually him, sometimes Thor. He would do it out of spite, for the most part, and it was no different than now. Unbeknownst to Loki, the Kursed has taken Loki’s advice to take the left staircase to heart, and in doing so, a tragedy had occurred. 

 

He’s still reading when Thor bursts into the prison, eyes wild from the heat of battle. Right off the bat, Loki can tell something is wrong. He marks his place with his thumb and turns his head in order to give Thor his attention. “What has happened?” He demands. Thor closes his eyes. “It’s mother,” he says. His voice is choked up and as those two words pass through his lips, a whirlwind of guilt and grief crashes down onto Loki, burying him underneath the weight of it all. “No,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Thor, tell me she did not perish. Tell me she is alive.” Loki’s heart is pounding in his ears as he silently begs the Norns to let his mother be alive. Thor closes his eyes. His silence alone is enough to answer Loki’s question. A horrible, nauseating flood of emotion swamps Loki and he stands up, as to avoid looking at his brother’s grief stricken face. “How did this happen?” He asks, words choked. Thor hesitates. “Perhaps I should not tell...she would not want you to worry.”

Loki slams a hand against the barrier. Thor starts slightly. “Thor!  _ Tell me!  _ NOW.”

His brother sighs. “She was creating a diversion so that Jane could escape. You see, Jane was...infected with immense power, too much for her to withstand. That is why she is here. Malekith, the king of the Dark Elves, wants it. He sent Kurse to find Jane, and mother…”

Loki closes his eyes. “She tried to take him on,” he finishes. Thor dips his head. “She was stabbed. If I had been but a few seconds quicker, she may...she may still be with us.”

Loki clenches his fists. “What of Malekith and his beast?”

“Gone,” Thor answers shortly. “They fled before I could catch them.”

Loki paces away. “Thank you, brother. For telling me. If you would not mind, I would like to be alone. For now.”

Thor bows in understanding and retreats. “Be well, brother. We will have our revenge,” he tells Loki as he departs. 

Loki watches him leave. When he’s sure Thor is out of sight, Loki sets his book down and walks to the middle of the room. He lets all the rage boil up inside him, converting itself into power somewhere along the way. With a slight twitch, a blast of green energy shoots out through the room, sending furniture and artifacts alike across the room in a blizzard of Loki’s grief. The mage drops to his knees, and all the emotions he had tried to suppress boil over all at once. His cell fills with green light as he lets out a heart wrenching cry that sends shudders down the spines of anyone who is unlucky enough to hear it. 

 

***

 

The dungeons are next to empty. Few prisoners survived the massacre, and those who did huddle in shame at the back of their cells. The soldiers who guard the entrances can hardly be counted as people, for they don’t move, speak, or show any signs of life. It’s silent. Nobody comes, and nobody leaves. There are still dried bloodstains on the stone, but no one comes to clean them. The kingdom is in mourning. In one day, it lost a battle, had its palace destroyed, and lost its queen, who was the last pure soul in the whole kingdom. In the upper floors, few words are exchanged. The gold halls seem dimmer, the woven tapestries less vibrant. Queen Frigga’s death has sent every man, woman, and child of Asgard into a state of grief more powerful than any army’s might. The palace staff bow their heads in condolence when the young prince and his father pass them in the halls. The king leans heavily on his son’s shoulder, still in shock at the loss of his beloved wife. The prince mourns not only his mother, but his younger brother, who should be here with him, sharing their grief. His blue eyes are clouded with sorrow as he watches the boat carrying his mother to Valhalla pass him by. 

Deep beneath the palace, the disgraced mage prince lights a candle in memoriam, surrounded by broken furniture and the torn pages of books. He is alone. Nobody, not even his brother, comes to console him.

 

***

 

Grief is a subjective emotion. Every person handles the loss of a loved one differently. Some surround themselves with other people, as though socializing can fill the hole left by the deceased. Sometimes, it’s quite the opposite, and the mourner retreats into a shell, numb from any emotion except grief. It’s like this for Loki. When Sigyn, Narfi, and Vali died, he had others there with him to help him cope. He wept with his surviving children, and was comforted by his brother and the friends he had made through his dear Sigyn. But this time, losing Frigga, Loki had no one. He can hear the funeral procession from his cell, and it hurts more than anything, because of course he would not be allowed to attend. He mourns his mother in his own way, with candles conjured up from nowhere. 

Loki burns a pocket-sized tapestry Frigga had given him as a child in the flames. He watches the silken material shrivel and burn on the white floor, leaving a sizable russet stain on the otherwise pristine ground. 

It’s not a funeral, but it makes Loki feel a little better. 

 

In the painfully long days that follow, Loki grows mad. His cell, already left in disarray, starts to look like a tornado blew through it. He smashes the rest of the furniture still left intact, scorches the walls with fire that causes said walls to boil, each second of destruction allowing him to start to plan. 

He will not stay in here any longer. 

Norns guide him, Loki is going to get out. 

  
And when he does get off of this miserable planet, he is  _ never  _ going back again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't want to kill off Frigga. Truly. I love her to bits and I wish I could have kept her alive, but as I was writing this chapter i referred to my notes and realized it's actually pertinent to the later on plot that she dies here.


	21. Even Lights Can Fade Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki's plan to escape Asgard ends with an unexpected outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody can guess what the title of this chapter means/where it's from, I stg I will love you forever bc I was so proud of coming up with it

Rule number one of being the god of mischief: always have a way out. The minute a deception of any kind is put into action, no matter how miniscule, _always_ have an escape strategy. Something to fall back on, should things go south. (And they would, every now and then. See: Svaðilfari. And that time with the dwarves of Nidavellir.) This did, of course, include having an escape plan for breaking out of prison. Granted, all the prisons Loki had broken out of were not as advanced as Asgard’s, but it wasn’t impossible. Just a couple added challenges. And, much to his dismay, he would need somebody else’s help.

 

The Norns, however, were on Loki’s side at this point in time, for it was just his luck that at the same time that Loki was plotting an escape from Asgard, Thor was too. And, even better, Thor needed Loki’s help. It was this perfect coincidence that caused Loki, Thor, the very wary Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and Heimdall to be found conspiring in the dungeons.

 

“Tell me your plan,” Loki says. He paces the length of his cell, hands clasped behind his back. His head is hung low and his eyes are unfocused as he walks. His hair is matted and unwashed, adding to his pathetic ensemble. It pains Thor to see his brother like this - and he’s going to do anything in his power to get him out of here, even if it means being exiled again.

“Thor, we shouldn’t-” Sif starts, stepping forward to protest. Thor sends her a warning look and she claps her mouth shut and returns to the other three, glowering. “Sif will break Jane out of her tower,” Thor begins. “While Heimdall distracts father at the Bifrost. We will meet Sif and Jane on the lower levels, and Volstagg will escort us to the downed ship in the Throne room. Our goal is to draw the Einherjar’s attention to this ship, while the three of us - myself, you, and Jane - abandon it and meet up with Fandral on one of the Einherjar ships. You will then lead us to your portal, and we make our escape.”

“Interesting,” is the only thing that Loki says. The four Aesir exchange looks as Loki continues to pace, deep in thought. “Has it occured to you that all four of you will be committing treason?” He finally says.

“It has,” Thor admits. “But it will be worth it, in the long run.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “I can assure you, nothing could be worth being locked up in here. Which is precisely where you all will end up, unless we devise a way to enact this plan without you being seen.”  
“That’s impossible,” Sif says coldly. “The guards will see us no matter what.”

Heimdall breaks his silence in order to chuckle quietly. “I think that may be his intention,” he says. Loki grins. “Indeed. If I can reach my rooms, I have some artifacts that could disguise you as simple Einherjar guards, meaning this plan could be put in motion with few lasting consequences.”

“We will not have time to escort you to your rooms,” Fandral pipes up. Loki glances over at him, unimpressed. “I know the way, thank you,” he says flatly. “And it would be little trouble. Thor and I would just depart a few minutes earlier.”

Thor crosses his arms. “And you are sure this will work?”

Loki smiles. “Brother, has my magic ever failed us before?”

 

***

 

Waiting for Thor to break open Loki’s cell is the longest half an hour of Loki’s life. He knows that on the floors above him, Volstagg, Fandral, and Heimdall are all stationed in their positions, and Sif is making her way up to Jane’s room. Loki sits in the center of his cell, weaving together a new spell that will stay intact up until Thor, Jane, and himself are off of Asgard. It’s a painstaking process, making sure every strand is in place, that every movement of the clone that will replace him will seem natural.

“Brother,” Thor says, quietly announcing his arrival. “It is time.”

Loki stands, hiding his shaking hands in the sleeves of his tunic. “Everything else is in place?”

“Yes,” answers Thor. He traces the runes on the pillar and the barrier flickers, shutting down just long enough for Loki to slip out of his cell. Grinning, he turns back and spreads his hands at the empty cell. His woven tapestry of illusion flies from his fingers in a cascade of green sparks, twisting and spinning until they form a perfect recreation of Loki. Thor watches on, impressed as always by his younger brother’s talent. “Very convincing,” he mutters to Loki, who brushes his hands on his tunic and smiles. “I know. Come, we must make haste.”

 

The princes sneak through the halls, ducking behind pillars or stepping into empty rooms when a patrol of guards passes. Loki cloaks himself with the guise of an Einherjar guard when they reach the royal living quarters. “Wait here,” he utters in the voice of the guard, stopping outside the massive oak doors that lead to his rooms. The polished wood is inlaid with an intricate carving of an ouroboros, which in turn is circled around Yggdrasil, the great tree of life.

As Thor waits by one of the floor length windows, Loki pushes open one of the doors and slips inside. The door closes behind him with a heavy _clunk_ , and Loki looks out into the massive expanse of interconnected rooms he once called his own. The domed ceiling of the foyer is alive with a small, yet stunningly realistic replica of Yggdrasil itself. As a child, Loki spent many hours laying on the bearskin rug underneath the dome, staring up at the mini planets, all connected by the branches of the tree. But now, he spares it any glance as he presses on into his sleeping quarters.

They’re untouched, for the most part. Stacks of old books are scattered in haphazard places, some open, some closed. Beautiful tapestries woven from silk and strands of gold decorate the walls. One, a massive mural-like tapestry depicting a solstice celebration from several hundred years ago, has several holes in it from where a pissed off teenage Loki had been throwing daggers into his father’s likeness. A small, slightly disproportionate dragon made of light bounds from wall to wall, the result of a lesson with Frigga, and Loki had grown too attached to the silly looking thing to destroy it.Loki opens the old wooden wardrobe that stands on squat legs behind his desk. He pulls out a leather bag emblazoned with glowing gold runes. A spell of his own invention - he could fit whatever he wanted within it, without running out of room. He opens it and moves about the room, snatching spellbooks, quills, amulets, outfits from his closet, and anything else he may need. He fetches the bracelets containing the cloaking spell for his comrades from the chest at the foot of his bed. His fingers brush against a worn leather book, tied shut with a thin silver chain. Loki frowns and fishes the book out. He untangles the chain and thumbs through the yellowed pages. It’s an old sketchbook of his - hundreds of years old, probably. The sketches contained within are of landscapes, for the most part. The training grounds he used to spar with his brother at. A pond in the forest he used to visit. Smiling, Loki turns the page.

And feels the breath get knocked from his lungs.

He realizes now why this book was chained up. Peering up at him from the worn page is his late wife. Even depicted with the shades of grey from charcoal, Sigyn’s smile is infectious. She’s young here, around the age she was when they first met. With a lump in his throat, Loki turns the page again. Each page from there on is covered with sketches of Sigyn - memories of her laugh, her soft voice, brought to life in black and white. There’s a drawing of the cottage they built together, in that field on Vanaheim.

The next drawing is of Narfi and Vali, grinning their mother’s smiles. Loki skims through the next pages. There’s Hel, drawn in all her fiery six-year-old glory. Jörmangandr, on the next page, being taught how to summon witchlight by Narfi.

Years of Loki’s life, documented by sketches in a sketchbook he forgot about.

The last drawn on page of the journal is another drawing of Sigyn. Her eyes are shut. She looks peaceful. The lines of the drawing are wobbly and blurred in some parts by what must have been tears. Loki remembers drawing this one - Hel was asleep on his shoulder, Jörmangandr curled against his side, and little Fenrir cradled in Loki’s arm. This was drawn the day he lost Sigyn.

Swallowing the lump that’s risen in his throat, Loki tucks the book into his bag and gives his room one final glance. “Goodbye,” he says aloud, then pulls open the door and slips out.

 

Thor is still waiting when he exits the rooms. “Let’s go,” Loki says. “I have everything I need.”

 

***

 

There’s a sort of satisfaction in watching the people who scorned Loki for using magic adorning magical artifacts. Loki watches with a vaguely sinister smile on his face each time one of Thor’s comrades activates the spell hidden within the bracelet he gives them.

Loki chooses to stay silent as they run through the corridors, not wanting to risk being found out and sent back to his cell. There are a few times where he’s tempted to tease Thor, or make a sarcastic quip as they follow the designated escape route, but he holds his tongue. Sif bids them farewell and good luck after passing Jane off to Thor. As the trio begin to depart, Sif throws a hand out to stop Loki, her disguise burning away momentarily. “If you betray him,” she growls, “I swear to the spirits of all the kings before Odin that I will hunt you down and burn you alive.”

Loki smiles and pushes her hand away. “Noted. But please, Sif, do not trouble yourself with such...business. I have no interest in betraying Thor. Goodbye, my lady. I will not see you again.”

Sif watches him hurry to catch up with Thor through narrowed eyes. She never was fond of Loki - and he was never fond of her, either. They tolerated each other because they both loved Thor, but now, as she watches him depart, a small part of her regrets never befriending him. Maybe in another life, they could have been closer.

Sif draws her weapon, and walks away.

 

“What did Sif wish to speak with you about?” Thor murmurs to Loki, once he’s caught up. “Oh, just your run of the mill death threats,” Loki replies airily. Thor groans. “She really must stop that.”

Loki cracks a smile. “It doesn’t bother me, brother. Not anymore.”

“Still,” Thor grumbles. “Having to deal with you two glaring daggers at each other as kids was stressful enough.”

“No kidding,” Loki says drily. “Jane, how are you feeling?” He moves forward and rests a hand on Jane’s back, as she had just stumbled. Jane draws her jacket closer around herself. “Cold,” she mutters. “And a little sick.”

Thor sends a worried look Loki’s way. Loki returns it and drops back to walk with his brother again. “She is fading,” he murmurs. “We must hurry.”

Thor dips his head and speeds up. “Jane, we must quicken our pace. The guards have most likely been alerted now. We do not have much time.”

“Fair,” Jane responds. Thor takes her hand and the two break into a run, matched easily by Loki, even with the leather bag over his shoulder.

 

They’re almost at the throne room when they hear the guards approaching. Heavy footfalls of metal against stone and the clanking of armour bound off of the stone walls. The trio speeds up, skidding around the corner to where Volstagg, disguised as a guard, is waiting by the ship. “There you are!” He hisses, once they’re all within earshot. “What took you so long?”

“I was delayed,” Loki tells him calmly. “Not to worry. We still have plenty of time.”

Volstagg glowers at him and then turns to Thor. “Everything is set. I shall hold off the guards while you take off.”

Thor claps a hand on Volstagg’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend. But do not linger too long, or you will surely be caught.”

Volstagg dips his head and moves aside to allow Thor to escort Jane aboard the downed ship. He draws his sword as Loki moves to follow. The metal blade clangs against Loki’s chestplate as it connects. Loki closes his eyes in annoyance. _By the Norns, we may just die here because of this fool’s mistrust of me,_ he thinks, bracing himself for Volstagg’s unavoidable threat. “Listen here, villain,” he warns. Loki looks away to avoid rolling his eyes. “Know that if you even _think_ about harming Thor or Lady Jane,” Volstagg continues, “I will-”

“Kill me?” Loki suggests. “Did I guess that correctly? Were you going to say you would kill me?”

Volstagg mutters something about Loki being a traitorous boar in Old Norse and drops his sword back to his side. “Begone,” he grumbles. “I look forward to putting you back behind bars myself, upon your return.”

“Cheers,” Loki says flatly, and breezes past him. He drops his bag on the ground by the control panel and joins Thor. The door closes just as the throne room’s doors are burst open by troops of soldiers. “Thor,” Loki hisses, “You may want to get this thing in the air…”

Thor scowls. “Working on it, Loki! Hush, now, and let me concentrate.”

Loki shuts his mouth for a moment and leans over his brother’s shoulder to examine what he’s doing. “Thor,” he sighs, “That’s the landing control you’re hitting. Not the take off gear.”

“How would you know?” Thor snaps. Loki points at the miniscule label under the button Thor is angrily smacking that roughly translates to “landing gear” in the Dark Elves’ language. “It says so right there.”

Thor stops his attempts at take off. “Well, how was I to know that? Which one is it, then?”

Loki shoves his brother aside and slides the switches up to full power. The engine sputters a couple times, then ignites. “There,” Loki says, satisfied. “Now, if I am reading these correctly, then these _should_ get us off the ground.” He flicks a switch and the ship rumbles and lurches forward, sending its passengers sprawling. “Evidently not,” Loki wheezes from the floor.

Outside, the soldiers have overtaken Volstagg - who slipped away in the confusion and escaped - and are now trying to wrench the doors open. In a last ditch attempt to get them out and away from the might of Asgard, Loki slams his hand down onto the control panel and the ship shoots up into the air, taking several of the throne room’s pillars with it. “Nice one,” Thor coughs. “I’m taking over.”

“I’m the better pilot!” Loki complains, still sprawled on the floor.

“I can actually fly,” Thor retorts.

“Can’t see how that applies here,” Loki mutters, but doesn’t bother getting to his feet. He crawls over to check on Jane, who’s slumped against the wall holding her head. “Jane?”

Jane moves her hand away with a groan. “My head is _killing_ me,” she moans. “It feels like someone has smashed a rock over it.”

Loki scoots over in front of her. “Here,” he says, pushing her hands away and placing his own on either side of her head. Jane raises an eyebrow. “Woah, there, Spock, what’re you doing?”

“I see you and Tony share the same taste in movies,” Loki comments. “But don’t fret. This will only take a moment.”

He removes his hands and Jane exhales deeply. “Wow. That...felt really weird. But thanks, I guess?”

Loki shrugs. “I would hate for you to be injured when we are so close to-”

A harsh blow rocks the ship and Loki is flung to the ground again. “Thor!” He shouts. “Are your eyes closed? What the Hel are you _doing?_ ”

“Shut _up,_ Loki!” Thor barks. “This is a little difficult!”

Loki struggles to his feet, using the control panel as a crutch. “Oh, look, now they’re following us,” he notes, as several red dots show up on the ship’s radar. “Wonderful! Bravo! What an incredible escape plan!”

A blast rocks the ship and Loki grasps the side of the panel so he doesn’t topple over for a third time. “And now they’re firing at us!”

Thor shoots him a withering look. “Yes, thank you for the commentary, Loki, it’s _not at all distracting._ ”

 

In the corner, Jane slides to the ground, eyes fluttering shut. Loki glances over at her. “Oh, that can’t be good.”

“Jane?” Thor says, alarmed. “She’ll be fine,” Loki assures him. "Please keep your attention on the flight path, so we don’t crash and burn.”

On cue, Thor crashes into the massive statue of Bor that stands guard on the city limits.

“Good job. You just decapitated your grandfather,” Loki deadpans. “ _Shut up,_ ” Thor growls. Loki smirks. “As your brother, I am obligated to inform you of every single one of your failures. If not to teach you how to be better, then merely to rub your face in it. You should know this, Thor, after-"

Loki doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because while he’s talking, Thor has opened the side door of the ship and unceremoniously shoves Loki out of it. Loki shrieks in surprise and dismay as he’s sent flying into open air, plummeting toward the sea thousands of feet below him.

He hits something solid and the breath is knocked out of him. Up above, he sees Thor leap from the ship, cradling Jane in his arms. In his daze, Loki figures out that he is not, in fact, dead, and is actually laying on one of the army’s ships, being piloted by Fandral. “I see your time in the dungeon has made you no less graceful, Loki,” Fandral chuckles as Loki heaves himself to his feet. “What the _Hel_ was that for?” Loki howls at Thor, as his brother has landed on the ship next to him. "Were you  _trying_ to kill me?"

Thor brushes past Loki. "I needed to shut you up somehow," he says, nonchalant. "Sorry if it startled you."

"Asshole," Loki spits out.

Thor chuckles and goes to lay Jane down atop the pile of rope and pillows that are kept in the ships, for some odd reason. Loki paces to the front of the ship and curls up next to his luggage, helpfully dropped onto the ship by Thor.

 

He must go into some sort of trance, because one minute, he’s on the boat, wind in his hair and listening to Fandral and Thor argue about how to evade the soldiers who have found them, and the next, he’s standing in a semi-familiar room, surrounded by glowing screens and counters piled high with cardboard boxes. Somebody’s singing to themselves. Frowning, Loki skirts around the precarious stacks of boxes, following the sound.

“ _I understand about indecision, but I don't care if I get behind...People livin' in competition, All I want is to have my peace of mind,_ ” the singer croons, and suddenly Loki is flung back to several months prior, sitting in a car for the first time while Tony sang the same song, out of tune and obnoxiously loudly.

“Tony?” Loki stammers, rounding the corner. His heart is hammering as he see his lover, hunched over a counter, poking at the innards of one of his devices with a screwdriver. Tony abruptly stops singing. The screwdriver falls from his hand. “Lokes?” he asks hesitantly.

Loki’s heart skips a beat. “Yes!” He cries. “It’s me, Tony, it’s me!”

Tony turns around and takes Loki in, wiping away any of Loki’s doubt that this is a dream, because no _way_ could any dream be this exact. He doesn’t have any time to say anything else before he’s been tackle-hugged by Tony. “Ouch,” he wheezes, patting Tony’s back. “Hello to you too, my love.”

Tony keeps his face buried in Loki’s chest. “I have had the worst two weeks of my life,” he says into the soft fabric of whatever outfit Loki is suddenly wearing, despite him not remembering changing out of his armour. “But that’s okay now, because you’re here, and-”

Tony steps back. “Wait. How are you here? Are you actually here? You must be, cuz you feel real. Are you real?”  
“I…” Loki stammers. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly have no idea. I think I may still be on Asgard and am only here in spirit? But that’s just a theory.”

The hope in Tony’s eyes dulls. “So you’re not actually here.”

Loki shrugs, helpless.

Tony sighs. “Damn it. Are you still...in that awful cell?”

A smile makes its way to Loki’s face. “I’m not,” he tells Tony, and he’s never been more happy to say two words in his life. “I’ve made it out. I’m coming home to you. Wait for me?”

The light in Tony’s eyes reignites. “Absolutely,” he says firmly, trying to stay serious while failing at holding back a grin. “I’ll find champagne. And rose petals. And I’ll wait on top of said rose petals.”

“Tony,” Loki complains. “Not now.”

“Sorry,” Tony laughs. “Make it home safe, okay?”

“I will,” Loki promises. “We will be together again soon.”

Tony leans up and brings their lips together. A wonderful, warm feeling spreads through Loki’s body at the contact and he doesn’t want to pull apart. “Love you,” he whispers when they inevitably do. “Love you too,” Tony responds.

 

Loki blinks, and he’s back on the boat. Fandral is gone, and Thor is shaking Loki desperately. “What the-?” he mutters, glancing around at his surroundings. “Tony?”

Thor frowns. “Loki, Tony isn’t here. Are you alright? You were twitching and I could not wake you.”

Oh. So it was a dream. Loki’s shoulders slump. “Yes,” he says dully. “I am okay.”

“Thank the Norns,” Thor sighs. “Come. Show us to your secret passage.” He extends a hand and helps Loki to his feet. The younger prince takes hold of the boat’s steering maneuver and guides it downward, aiming for one of the mountains in the distance.

“Loki...” Thor says nervously.

“Trust me,” Loki tells him, and speeds up. They hurtle toward the mountain, wind blowing their hair back and making their eyes water. “Loki!” Thor shouts.

“If it were easy,” Loki shoots back, “Everyone would do it!”

“Are you mad?” Thor howls, as the boat gets closer and closer to a tiny crack in the side of the mountain. “Possibly!” Loki yells over his shoulder, a little too cheerfully. “Hold on!”

 

The boat barely manages to get into the crack, which doesn’t widen once they’re inside. The sides of the boat scrape against the stone, sending sparks flying and a cringeworthy screeching sound to fill the air. Loki’s grip on the boat’s lever tightens as the portal takes hold and hurls them across space. For a moment, they’re all surrounded by bright light in every colour of the rainbow, before the boat is spit back out into a dreary, unforgiving landscape. “Ta-da,” Loki sings. Thor peels himself off the side of the boat. “Next time, a warning would be nice,” he grumbles. Loki shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Thor punches him in the shoulder. “Ouch,” Loki retorts, rubbing the sore spot. He leaves the boat on autopilot and walks to the edge of the boat to gaze out at the gray realm. “So this is Svartalfheim,” he breathes. “It looks like Hel. But without snow.”

Thor joins him. “It is bleak,” he agrees. They stand in silence,  the only sound being the damaged motor of the boat as it sputters its way through the air.

“You aren’t coming back to Asgard, are you?” Thor asks quietly. Almost timidly. Loki glances over at his brother to see him staring mournfully into the distance. “No,” Loki says hesitantly. “I am not. There is too much pain there. And Odin would only see me imprisoned should I return.”

Thor hesitates, and for a moment Loki is sure he's about to try and convince him to stay. But then Thor smiles sadly and speaks up again. “I wish you the best, brother. But where will you go?”

Loki folds his arms atop the side rail of the boat. “Midgard, probably. Settle down with Tony, if he will have me. Perhaps become an Avenger myself.” He says the last part jokingly, and nudges Thor.

Thor looks over at his little brother. “Mother would be proud of you,” he tells him softly. Loki blinks in surprise. “Thor,” he sighs. “Can we not do this now?”

Thor rests a hand on one side of Loki’s neck. “No. If this is the last time we speak as brothers, then I will bring this up. She loved you more than she could possibly say. Do not blame yourself for her death, for I know you do. She died protecting not only Jane, but all of us. You most of all. Keep her memory alive on Midgard, Loki. Keep making her proud of you every day.”

Loki doesn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “We’re here,” he croaks, and pulls away. Just before he takes hold of the lever again, he glances back at Thor. His eyes are glistening with tears. “You will be a good king, Thor. Rule for both of us, alright?”

“Alright,” Thor agrees, pretending that he, too, isn’t tearing up.

 

***

 

Funny, how things can go horribly, horribly wrong when you least expect them to. Everything had worked out perfectly - Thor’s disbelief when Loki had betrayed him had fooled Malekith, Jane was saved from the Aether, and sure, Malekith got the Aether in the end, but Thor would take care of that. Loki’s scooped up his bag and is preparing to duck off to the nearby portal to Midgard he sensed upon their arrival on Svartalfheim when he catches sight of his brother being cornered by that wretched monster, Kurse. “Shit,” Loki curses, looking between Thor and the nearby cave. “Shit!” he says loudly, and drops his bag. Summoning his daggers, Loki sprints toward the battle, sending out clones to distract Malekith’s minions and then spearing them from behind. His footfalls send up sprays of grey sand and his heart is hammering in his chest. _Don’t you dare touch him,_ he shouts in his head. By now, Thor is trapped by Kurse. Mjolnir is nowhere in sight, and Thor is injured. Jane is yelling from somewhere nearby. Her cries blend together with the blur of noises from the battle. Loki ducks under the swinging arm of a dark elf and sends a dagger into its eye. The elf collapses and Loki presses on. He desperately searches the wasteland for a weapon that could pierce Kurse’s armour. He finds an old, but still sharp scrap of metal from an ancient ship and hauls it into his grasp. “Hey!” Loki shouts at Kurse. The sudden noise causes Kurse to falter in his movements toward Thor, giving Loki just enough time to drive the shard of metal through Kurse’s chest. Panting, Loki stumbles back as Kurse staggers away from Thor. _Ha,_ Loki thinks. _Not so mighty now, are you?_

 

He’s caught off guard when Kurse suddenly whips around and his hands close around Loki’s shoulders. _Uh oh,_ Loki thinks, one second before he’s pulled forward, onto the very blade he just used to impale Kurse. An explosion of pain blooms out from his sternum. He can _hear_ his ribcage crack as the blade goes clean through his chest. Blood splatters the ground behind him. Loki gasps for breath, hands grasping weakly at Kurse, trying to free himself from the metal. His fingers graze over the last of Kurse’s implosion grenades and he weakly pulls the pin with bloody hands. “See you in Hel, monster,” he gasps. Using the last of his strength, Loki forces himself off the blade. He falls onto the ground - hard - as blood starts to pool in his mouth. He sputters, the taste and scent of copper filling his senses. Through fading eyes, he sees Kurse be devoured by his own weapon. _Goodbye, beastie,_ Loki’s dying brain thinks.

From somewhere in the distance, Thor is screaming Loki’s name. He becomes vaguely aware of Thor pulling him into his lap, one hand supporting Loki’s head so he doesn’t choke on his own blood. The world is going fuzzy, now, a little dark around the edges, too. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes. “So sorry, brother.”

Behind Thor, Jane approaches. She covers her mouth in horror at the sight of Loki dying in his brother’s arms.

“You were so brave,” Thor whispers. “You saved our lives. You did well, little brother. I will tell father what you did here.”

Loki tilts his head so he can look his brother in the eye. He feels his last breath coming. Better not waste it. “I didn’t do it for him,” the god of mischief murmurs.

 

His last words ring out across the empty wasteland as his body slacks and his final breath escapes his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Loki dies so much like
> 
> Is he okay
> 
> How's he doing


	22. Come Down and See Me Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when things are looking up, they hit rock bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started school again and wow! I wish I was dead but that's why this took so long to upload. My bad. Will try to update more frequently.

Some people believe that dreams are a way to see things that cannot be seen in the waking hours. While there has never been proof that the subconscious mind can reach out into the cosmos, it is still a theory that many discuss. 

 

The truth is, dreams are simply dreams and the mind cannot see through other people’s eyes, nor can it reach out in slumber and show its owner the world that exists around it. 

Unless, of course, it has been altered. 

 

***

 

In his dream, Tony is trapped within a cell, watching a group of soldiers plot an escape. He can’t make out their words, and whenever one of them turns their face towards Tony, a beam of light blurs it out, like a piece of the person just isn’t there. The faceless figures mumble in their indecipherable language. Tony puts his hands over his ears to block them out. Everything is too bright - the walls are blinding, the shimmering gold barrier that traps him hurts his eyes, and the glowing figures of the other occupants are like supernovas. 

A cold, paralyzing feeling grips Tony from behind. Familiar, now, from all of the other occasions. It means, from what he’s gathered, that he’s about to be booted from his dreamstate. Just before he does, though, he catches a snippet of the conversation, audible to him in an actual language as opposed to the deranged mumbling all the people who appear in these weird dream-visions seem to speak in. 

“ _ Has my magic ever failed us before? _ ”

 

Tony opens his eyes. His room is dark, except for the faint glow of the arc reactor under his shirt. Everything is exactly the same as it was when he’d fallen asleep. He sits up and rubs at his eyes.  _ “Good afternoon, sir,” _ JARVIS says. Tony yawns. “It’s still dark, J.”

The blackout blinds shutter back in response, flooding Tony’s bedroom with light. Tony shouts in alarm and claps a hand over his eyes. “Christ, Jarvis! Have some respect!”

_ “It is currently twelve fifty-two in the afternoon,” _ the A.I. continues, completely ignoring Tony’s complaint.  _ “All others are awake.” _

Tony yawns and rolls off his mattress. “Anything scheduled for today?”

_ “Nothing, sir.” _

“Wonderful. Any aliens I have to fight? Or psychopaths bent on blowing shit up and being a nuisance?”

_ “I have no reports of any such occurrences,” _ JARVIS confirms. 

“Even better! I can work undisturbed.” Tony stretches and gets up, wandering over to his walk-in closet to find an outfit. He settles on a pair of black jeans and a plain green t-shirt under a dark blue blazer. 

 

He’s not surprised to see the rest of the Avengers camped out in the living space when he finally makes his way down to the lower levels of Avengers tower. Natasha’s stirring a cup of something hot with a spoon as she flips through whatever book had caught her interest. Tony notes that she’s wearing the same shirt Barton had been wearing a few days prior. 

Speaking of Barton, the archer is perched atop the couch, switching through TV shows on Netflix. “Good morning, people who have entire floors to themselves yet still insist on hanging out here,” Tony announces as he descends the staircase. Nat glances up from her book. “It’s afternoon,” she tells him. 

“Noticed that, thanks,” Tony shoots back. “Where’s Steve and Bruce?”

“Steve’s out,” Clint tells him. “And Bruce is...actually, I’ve got no idea. Haven’t seen him.”

“Huh. Okay, well, if you do see him, tell him I’m in the lab,” Tony says. 

“There’s a shocker,” Natasha hums. 

Tony flips her off as he heads for the elevator. From the table, Natasha smirks. 

 

***

 

The great thing about living in a tower is that it’s very easy to slip away to somewhere nobody can find you. Also, Tony’s new lab? Massive. Everything he could possibly want, with room for so much more. There’s still a bunch of boxes that need to be unpacked but hey, everything else is great. It’s like Christmas. 

On the down side, it’s hard to find anything if you put it down anywhere. Needed a wrench? Too bad, it’s behind four boxes. Looking for that StarkPad you  _ just  _ put down? Good luck, it’s in the void between the boxes. 

 

Tony’s still in the process of fully moving into Avengers Tower - since the whole Mandarin/Aldrich Killian mess, he’s been trying to sort things out. Not that there’s much to move from his old place, seeing as it was blown up. His robots survived, though. And some of his suits. (Several had to be sacrificed in the final standoff, but they could always be rebuilt, so Tony wasn’t super torn up about it.) He did miss his old place in Malibu, though. Plenty of good memories there. That’s where he drunkenly came out to Rhodey, even though his friend had figured it out years before. He’d built his first true Iron Man suit in that workshop. His first kiss with Pepper had been there. And, of course, that’s where he’d met Loki. 

Oh, god, Loki. If -  _ when,  _ Tony tells himself,  _ when  _ \- he makes it back to Earth, Tony thinks his god might just flip out. He can sort of hear Loki now, chewing him out for threatening a terrorist. He’d probably rant at him in English, and then at some point switch to insulting Tony in Old Norse, which Tony still doesn’t understand but could get the gist of what Loki was saying through his angry hand motions and the classic “Tony Stark you absolute  _ moron _ ” look that every person Tony had ever become friends with had perfected. 

What Tony would give to get that lecture. 

 

There’s also the matter of whatever the hell has been going on with Tony’s brain. Case in point, when he’d woken up this morning. He keeps having these disturbingly vivid dreams, or feelings, sometimes, that can’t possibly be his. The other day, he’d been downtown with Natasha, grabbing a bite to eat at some little sandwich shop when a wave of grief had suddenly engulfed him. It was a terrible, heartbreaking feeling that had caused Tony to tear up halfway through eating a sandwich. (He hadn’t told Natasha what had happened, so she’d just assumed he was eating a damn good sandwich.)

 

His hypothesis is that something caused him and Loki to be intertwined, even though they’re on separate planets. He can’t pin it, but his best guess is that the amulet Loki gave Tony before Thor took him back to Asgard. It probably holds some sort of magical power or something, one that Loki neglected to tell him about. Not that he’d had the time to. 

 

Whatever the reason, it was a little comforting to know that Loki wasn’t dead. The few times Tony had been astral projected into Loki’s cell - again, like this morning -, he looked...sad, which was understandable, but alright otherwise. Not bloodied or bruised. It was good to know that “Asgardian Justice” didn’t involve torturing the accused. 

 

For the moment, though, any weird Asgardian magic shit is inactive as Tony dissects a broken segment of a defense droid he’d been designing. The lens of the built in camera cracks as Tony drives a chisel-tip screwdriver into the faceplate. “Shit,” he curses. He picks up the small circle of glass and holds it up to the light. Unfixable. Damn it. Ah, well. He can grab another one later. 

Tony tosses the lens aside and continues prying open the droid. (He calls it a droid, but it’s more a facial recognition-activated laser turret with legs. That worked once before shorting itself out and sending Clint into a five minute long session of wheezing on the floor.) 

Tony’s determined to get it to work, mainly to rub it in Barton’s face. 

At some point, when the droid is laying in two neat halves on the counter, Tony’s started to absentmindedly sing. It starts quiet, but gets louder because there’s no one else in the lab and he can enjoy himself sometimes, alright?

Prodding the droid with the lens-breaking screwdriver, Tony’s totally oblivious to the figure that’s just flickered into existence a few meters away. 

 

“Tony?” 

 

Tony stops singing and the screwdriver falls onto the counter. The handle hits one of the hard drives inside the droid, and it breaks. Because of course it does. 

 

Stupid screwdriver. 

 

Tony whips around, conflicting emotions of disbelief and delight battling it out in a cage match somewhere in his body. He hardly processes what he’s seeing. Loki, his Loki, the wonderful, clueless god is standing in the mess of a room he calls a lab, wearing the same hastily thrown together outfit of baggy jeans and Tony’s old shirt he’d been wearing the last day they’d been together. “Lokes?” Tony hears himself ask. He’s hesitant - not sure if this is real, or if he’d fallen asleep at his worktable and is imagining the whole thing. 

 

Loki’s face lights up. “Yes,” he says, and  _ god,  _ has Tony missed that voice, “It’s me, Tony, it’s me!” 

 

Tony wastes zero time in crossing the lab to throw himself at Loki, a gesture he has never done to anyone but would now probably do it a million times over if it meant having Loki catch him. “Ouch,” Loki coughs. He pats Tony’s back. “Hello to you too, my love.”

 

_ My love.  _

 

Tony smiles like a lovestruck sixteen year old into Loki’s shirt, thankful the god can’t see his face. All at once, the feelings he’s been keeping locked up for the past two weeks come crashing down on him and suddenly he’s pouring it all out to Loki, who, bless his soul,  _ actually listens.  _

“Wait,” he says, and steps back. “Wait. How are you here? Are you actually here? You must be, cuz you feel real. Are you real?””

Loki looks down at himself like he’s not quite sure. “I...I don’t know,” he confesses. “I honestly have no idea. I think I may still be on Asgard and am only here in spirit? But that’s just a theory.”

Tony’s heart drops to his feet. “So you’re not really here.”

Loki shrugs. 

 

Whatever he says from there, Tony doesn’t remember. His brain is on autopilot, right up until he’s pulled Loki down into a kiss - because goddamn, the guy is tall and it’s  _ not fair  _ \- and everything is right with the world again. He’s kissing the man he loves, after months of seperation, and just for this moment, this single, bliss-filled moment, everything is okay. “Love you,” Loki says softly when they pull apart. He brushes a cold hand against Tony’s face. “Love you too,” Tony says back.

 

A slight gust of wind blows through the lab. When Tony looks up, Loki is gone. 

 

***

 

There’s a very specific sequence of events that lead to Tony collapsing on the floor of the shared kitchen. It goes as follows: 

  
  


At two fifteen, Tony left the lab to grab a cup of non-instant coffee from the kitchen. At two twenty, he’s in the elevator, mulling over the events that had just transpired. Loki was free and, it seemed, coming home. The thought puts a smile on Tony’s face as he leaves the elevator at two twenty-five. 

 

Nobody’s in the kitchen when Tony enters. In fact, there isn’t anybody on the entire floor. Tony thinks nothing of it as he brews himself a mug of coffee at two twenty-nine. 

 

He’s  retrieving the mug of coffee from the coffee machine at two thirty-two when the pain hits. One moment, he’s fine, the only pain in his body from the burn he’d gotten from a shorting out security drone. The next, a white-hot, piercing pain shoots through his chest. The mug falls from his hand and shatters on the tile. Glass shards and coffee go everywhere. Tony lurches forward, clutching the counter with shaking hands. The air around him turns stale and the bright light of the kitchen fades to dark grey. He looks down at his hands to see them covered in dark blood. In the distance, somebody is yelling, but their voice is garbled and unintelligible. The arc reactor in his chest is splintered, a wide crack running through the glass. Blood is gushing out of the wound at an alarming rate and as he falls, Tony attempts to staunch the flow with his already blood slicked hands. He hits the sand beneath him, chest burning, head pounding, back hurting because whatever he landed on was definitely not the soft sand he was looking at. 

Tony’s eyesight starts to fade. His vision blurs in and out of focus as his brain works overtime processing all the pain he’s in. At two thirty-five, everything goes dark.

 

***

  
  


Bruce had not expected today to be anything exciting. In fact, when he had woken up that morning, he was hoping it would be just as uneventful as yesterday, and the day before that. He was going to finish that book he’d been reading, maybe do some work with Tony in the lab...peaceful stuff, like always. He closes his book at two forty-four precisely and basks in the glow of finishing a good book as he walks downstairs to drop off his empty tea mug before heading down to the lab, where he’ll no doubt find Tony hunkered down over whatever project he’s busied himself with today. 

 

He’s in for a shock when he rounds the corner into the kitchen to find Tony laying face up in a mess of cold coffee and shards of a ceramic mug. His eyes are closed and his arms are bleeding from where he must’ve fallen on the broken ceramic.  

 

Bruce drops the white mug he’d been holding and it hits the ground, shattering on impact. The white pieces get kicked together with the remains of Tony’s red one. “Tony!” He exclaims, dropping into a crouch and shaking his friend. Tony’s eyes stay shut. He shows no signs of response. Bruce presses two fingers to his neck, relaxing slightly at the slight flutter of a pulse. Weak, but there. “Oh, no, no, what happened?” Bruce mutters. There’s nobody else around, and hasn’t been for a while, seeing how Tony’s been out cold for who knows how long and hasn’t already been found. “JARVIS? Are you there?”

“ _ Affirmative, Mr. Banner. What can I help you with? _ ”

 

Bruce nudges the broken glass away from Tony with his foot. “Tony’s in trouble. I need help. Can you, like, get Steve? Anyone?” 

 

“ _ Give me a moment, Mr. Banner, _ ” JARVIS replies. The AI falls silent and somewhere in the building, all the Avengers get an emergency call that sends all of them rushing down to the main living area. “Bruce?” Natasha inquires as she jogs across the carpeted TV room to reach the minibar. “What’s going on-oh. Oh, god. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce tells her, helplessly. “I found him like this.”

Clint catches up with Natasha and is about to say something when he sees Tony. “Fuck,” he says. “Is he dead?”

“ _ Clint, _ ” Natasha snaps. “Not funny.”

“It was a logical question,” Clint shoots back. 

“That’s enough, you two,” Steve scolds, announcing his arrival. “Bruce, get on the phone and call Doctor Cho. Her number should be in the system. I’ll get Stark to the infirmary. Barton, clean this mess up, please. And Nat, I want you to get JARVIS to pull the security footage to figure out what happened. Got it?”

“Yessir,” Clint says dully. “Got it. Cleaning service.”

“On it, Captain,” Natasha says. She turns swiftly on a heel and jogs off to the security office. Bruce gives Steve a quick nod and runs off with her. Steve gathers Tony up in his arms - the engineer doesn’t react in any way - and carries him carefully up to the infirmary. His breathing is steady, if not a little ragged.  _ What happened to you?  _ Steve wonders. The elevator doors ping open and Steve hurries to lay Tony down on one of the beds. He can’t do much else, except sit beside him and wait for Doctor Cho’s arrival.

 

***

 

“What do you mean, there’s nothing wrong with him?” Natasha demands. She’s the only one standing up - the other four are seated on the plush couches outside the medbay. Doctor Cho fidgets with her hands. “There is nothing physically  _ wrong  _ with Mr. Stark,” she explains. “His vitals are alright. There is no sign of poisoning, exhaustion, or any physical ailments. I cannot come up with any explanation as to why he passed out.”

“Shit,” Clint mutters. 

Steve drags a hand through his blond hair. “Nat, what’d you find on the cameras? Anything?”

Natasha shrugs hopelessly. “He looked fine when he left the elevator. He just collapsed.”

“There was  _ nothing  _ weird?” Steve presses. “No signs of magic?”

Natasha hesitates. “He looked...scared, actually. And kept clutching at his chest like he was in pain.”

Doctor Cho sends a sidelong glance at Tony’s still form in the medbay. “I can check again for signs of a heart attack. But other than that, I can’t do anything for him. I’m sorry.”

 

***

 

Tony dreams of the dark. Not in the sense that he doesn’t dream, but more that where ever he is, everything is dark. It presses down on him from all sides, sending pinpricks of fear throughout his body. It’s cold.  _ Really  _ cold. Cold enough that if he could see anything, he had no doubt that his breath would be clouding up the air. He can move, at least. Not that it does much. Even if he walks, runs, or jogs, there’s nothing to show that he’s left the spot he was just standing in. It’s just an endless expanse of emptiness yawning out around him. Every so often he catches a slight whisper from somewhere in the shadows, incomprehensible but definitely there. 

However long Tony’s stuck there, it’s too long. 

 

When he finally opens his eyes, he’s met with confusion. He could’ve sworn he was just in the kitchen, but now he finds himself laying in the medbay, hooked up to three different machines. His arms are wrapped in soft gauze. “The fuck?” He mutters. A vague memory of blood on his hands and a broken arc reactor flash through his mind and Tony’s hand flies up to his chest. He taps the very much intact glass face of the reactor through his shirt. No sign it was damaged. “Weird,” he says aloud. He proceeds to tug his shirt over his head in order to search for any other possible injuries that could have landed him in the medbay. Nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nothing except old scars.

But the memory was so real. The  _ feeling  _ was so real. What the hell happened?

 

“ _ Sir! _ ” JARVIS says, suddenly, scaring Tony. “ _ It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling? _ ”

“Confused,” Tony answers slowly. “Mind explaining what in the fresh fuck I’m doing here?”

“ _ Mr. Banner found you passed out on the floor, _ ” JARVIS explains. Tony snorts. “Yeah, that’s not really uncommon. He finds me passed out on the floor every Friday night. What’s so special about this time?”

“ _ Sir, that was three days ago. You weren’t waking up. _ ”

 

Oh.

 

Oh no. 

 

Tony freezes with one arm through his shirt. “Three  _ days? _ ”

“ _ Yes, sir. _ ”

“What the fuck happened?” He asks. JARVIS falls silent for a moment. “ _ I’m afraid no one has the answer to that. According to Doctor Cho, there was nothing wrong with you. It appears you simply passed out. _ ”

“Yeah, into a coma, apparently,” Tony shoots back. He slides off the bed, wobbling slightly as he hits the ground. “Where is everybody?” 

“ _ Common room, sir. Would you like me to tell them you’re awake? _ ”

“Nah,” Tony decides, stumbling toward the door. “Just make sure I don’t die on the way there.”

“ _ Of course, sir. _ ”

 

The atmosphere of the room is solemn when Tony half-walks, half-falls down the two steps leading into the little common area. The other Avengers are seated on the plush velvet couches, exchanging quiet words to one another. “Geez, who died?” Tony says to announce his arrival. Bruce practically breaks his neck as he whips his head around to look at Tony. 

“Tony! You’re awake!”

“Oh good, you can see me. Well, I can get rid of the fear that I’d died and turned into a ghost, then.”

Steve rises to his feet and crosses over to meet Tony. “Are you alright?”

“Yet to be decided,” Tony replies. “Feeling a little disoriented.”

Steve lays a hand on his shoulder, probably to steady him. “Sit down,” he advises, and guides Tony to an empty seat before Tony can protest. “You had us all worried,” Steve tells him. “Have you got any idea what happened?”

Tony shakes his head. “Nope. I can just remember bits and pieces.”

“What can you remember?” Natasha asks. She’s surveying him. Tony hates when she does that. He feels like a mouse about to be pounced on by a highly skilled, murderous cat. 

Tony shrugs, fixating on the elaborate bronze clock on the wall behind her so as to avoid having to look at her piercing eyes. “Little things. Like, uh...falling. Believe it or not, sand isn’t all that comfortable to fall on.”

The four Avengers exchange worried looks. “Uh, Tony?” Steve says. “You, uh. You were in the kitchen, when we found you.”

Tony blinks. “What? No. No, I’m pretty sure I was outside. Yeah, I must’ve been, because I was looking at a grey sky. It looked like it was about to rain.”

“It was eighty four degrees outside, Tony,” Natasha steps in. “It wasn’t raining.”

Tony stares at her for a second, then rubs at his eyes. “Jesus. I must’ve hit my head  _ really  _ hard.”

“You did,” Clint speaks up. “There was blood.”

Nat hits him in the arm. “You fell on some shards of a broken mug. That’s it.”

“I’ll call Doctor Cho and ask if she can come and make sure you’re alright,” Steve says. Tony shakes his head. “Don’t. I’ll get JARVIS to run some tests, if it’d make you feel better, but I don’t want to make this into a big deal.”

Steve sighs. “Alright. But take it easy, okay? You’re off the field until we’re one hundred percent sure you’re better.”

“Oh, come on, Cap!” Tony protests. “I’m fine! And what happens if aliens invade while I’m benched? You’re a man down. The world ends. All because you’re concerned for my health.”

“The world will be fine,” Steve assures him. “We can handle it.”

“Yeah, and we’ve already had an invasion while you were out,” Natasha says. Tony whips his head toward her. “Excuse me, what?”

Steve puts his face in his hands, exasperated. 

Natasha crosses her legs on the couch. “Couple days ago, yeah. In Greenwich. We tried to get there as fast as we could, but it didn’t matter. Thor took care of it.”

Tony bolts upright. “Thor’s on Earth?

“Nice one, Nat,” Clint mutters. Natasha ignores him. “He was. Went back to Asgard shortly after, though. He didn’t come visit us, so it must’ve been important.”

Tony stands up and starts to pace. Steve looks ready to force him back onto the couch, but a single warning look from Bruce makes him stay where he is. 

“Thor was here,” Tony mutters. “Was there anyone else with him?”

“You mean was Loki there?” Clint says. Tony spreads his hands in a “You got me” sort of way.

“No,” Clint answers. “No sign of him. Just Thor.”

Tony’s shoulders sag. “Shit.”

Natasha stands up and nudges Tony’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m sure he’s fine. Besides, from what we saw on the news, it was a pretty close call. It’s probably better he  _ wasn’t  _ there, right?”

“I guess,” Tony grumbles. “I’m just worried, that’s all.”

 

***

 

Steve stays true to his word. He doesn’t let Tony leave the tower, not even to go get coffee at the café down the road. It’s irritating, but Tony can understand why Steve’s doing it. He’s just not happy it’s him who Steve is making stay inside. He can’t even be in the lab by himself - someone always has to be with him. He feels like a kid with overprotective parents. 

 

Tony comes upstairs from a suit-building marathon in the lab at around nine at night to find all the Avengers - Bruce included, who was supposed to be supervising Tony in the lab, but no objections to him being gone here - clustered around a certain tall, blonde Asgardian prince. “Thor?” Tony blurts out, freezing in his tracks. The god pushes through his friends so he can stand in front of Tony. Thor bears the marks of somebody who has recently seen battle - cuts and scrapes litter his skin and yet somehow, the jerk still manages to look like a goddamn supermodel. His usual armour has been replaced with a simple red tunic and black pants embroidered with tiny silver leaves. There’s a strand of silky black hair braided into his own blonde hair. “Stark,” Thor says, and just from the tone of his voice, the way he says Tony’s name so gingerly, Tony can tell something’s wrong. “Thor,” Tony replies warily. “How’d the alien invasion go?”   
“Not as well as I had hoped,” Thor admits. “But that is not why I am here.” He slides the strap of a rather beaten up leather bag off of his shoulder and holds it out to Tony. Confused, Tony takes it, and almost immediately almost drops it. The bag is a lot heavier than it looks. “Thank you…?” He says tentatively, setting the bag down at his feet. “Okay, spill. What’s going on?” 

Thor’s expression grows distant and he avoids Tony’s eyes. “I cannot tell you this lightly, for there is no way to phrase it that will not hurt you.”

Oh, no. That can’t be good. “Tell me what?” Tony asks cautiously. 

Thor bows his head. “Loki is dead,” he affirms. “He died a hero’s death, saving my life.”

 

It takes a moment for the news to set in. Tony stares at Thor for a moment, almost as though he’s waiting for him to laugh and shout “Sike!” before revealing himself to actually be Loki, making a dramatic entrance as usual, but after a few seconds pass it becomes apparent that no such thing is going to happen. 

 

If Tony’s head was on an executioner’s block, then the axe had just fallen. 

 

“He was stabbed, wasn’t he,” Tony says hoarsely. He taps his chest with the tips of his fingers. “Right here?”

Thor frowns. “Yes, how did you-”   
“Lucky guess,” Tony says in a strangled voice. “Thanks. For dropping by.” 

“Stark,” Thor starts, but it’s too late. Tony is already halfway across the floor, making a beeline for the elevator. He collapses against the side when the doors are shut and covers his mouth with a hand.  _ Loki is dead,  _ Thor’s voice repeats in his head. 

_ He’s dead, _ echoes Tony’s mind. 

Tony wants to cry, but he can’t. No tears come. He leans against the wall of the elevator as it rises, dry heaving and feeling like he’s going to throw up. He finds himself reliving that incident in the kitchen - an incident that he now knows was Loki’s final moments. The cracking of Tony’s -  _ Loki’s  _ \- sternum fills Tony’s ears again and Tony gags, the nausea in his stomach increasing. Flashes of the blood resurface in his memory, hot and slick on his hands. Tony can almost taste it, too - that horrid, metallic taste filling his mouth. He remembers how it hurt to breathe for those few brief moments before it all went dark, how his last thought was full of fear and dread. Loki had been  _ scared  _ as he’d died. He may have died a hero’s death, but it wasn’t a quick one. 

 

Tony barely makes it to the en suite bathroom in his living quarters before he throws up. He stays huddled over the toilet, face wet with tears now because hell, he’s in pain and who the fuck cares if he’s crying. Every memory of Loki is painful to think of now, knowing that his body is laying in some wasteland of a planet, forgotten and left to rot. 

 

Tony throws up again. 

 

Fuck, he’s bad at grieving. 

 

At some point, sometime after Tony had gotten sick several more times, he stumbles into the minibar in his living room, searching for a bottle of something that could knock him out for a couple hours. Maybe longer. Hopefully longer. 

He knocks a glass off the counter as he’s reaching for the cupboard. It hits the floor and explodes into several hundred pieces of crystal. Tony doesn’t clean it up. 

He flicks the top off of a half-full bottle of Grey Goose vodka and is raising it to his lips when somebody speaks. 

“Tony,” the voice croaks. 

The bottle of vodka joins the broken glass on the floor. 

“Who the fuck is there,” Tony snaps. In the dark - Tony hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, what was the point - he can faintly see a humanoid shape slumped in one of the chairs. He becomes aware of the figure’s laboured breathing and cautiously skirts around the broken glass in order to fumble along the wall for the light switch. The lights flicker on and Tony feels his soul leave his body. 

 

There is blood  _ everywhere. _

 

It’s darker than it should be, and soaked into Tony’s white carpet. (Great.) Eyes wide, Tony’s gaze travels to the man sitting in his chair. 

 

If that’s even the right word. 

 

The  _ thing  _ sitting in his room is bleeding quite heavily from a ragged wound in his chest. The creature has dark blue skin patterned with light blue markings, and piercing crimson eyes that are boring a hole in Tony’s head. Dark blue, almost black hair falls in tight ringlets around the creature’s shoulders, greasy and unwashed. As Tony steps forward to get a better look, the light falls better upon the creature’s features, and a jolt runs through Tony’s body.

 

It’s not a creature. 

 

It’s Loki. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say it with me, folks: We need more Jotun!Loki.


	23. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our boys finally get to see each other for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I.  
> Hate.  
> School.
> 
> Seriously, I'm pretty sure this is the longest gap between chapters I've had, and it's not because I'm losing interest, it's literally because school is Hulk smashing me repeatedly into a wall. It's awful. I have 0 free time. My vision is filled with chemical formulas and Shakespearean quotes. "Take Me Home, Country Roads" is on a continuous loop in my brain. Nothing is real anymore.

If there is a word for an emotion made up of joy, relief, shock, and grief, Tony can’t think of it. Actually, he can’t think of  _ anything. _ He’s frozen in shock, broken bottle at his feet, listening to the sound of Loki’s strenuous, choking breaths. At the back of Tony’s mind, he can vaguely remember Loki telling him of his true form, but it had never really come across as  _ important.  _ Loki was just...well, Loki was just Loki. He had become a woman, a snake, according to his stories, and many other things, usually in order to confuse, scare, or taunt Tony. So the thought of Loki changing his appearance wasn’t exactly a oh-my-god-my-world-has-been-turned-on-its-head idea. No, the thing that had Tony’s mind working a thousand miles an hour was the fact that this version of Loki sitting here was actually  _ Loki.  _ Sure, he may spend all his time as a cocky black-haired bastard who looked like he’d never spent a day of his life in the sun, but that was just another one of his spells. The bleeding, blue-skinned alien - is that the proper term? Yeah, sure, it works -  _ that  _ is Loki’s true form. 

 

Shit. 

 

Right.

 

Loki’s bleeding. No time for sentiment or revelations now. Later, maybe. “Hey,” Tony chokes out. Loki gives him a weak, blood-stained smile. “Hey,” he wheezes. “Good to...good to see you. Help?”

“Right, yeah, let me just-” Tony moves forward to take Loki’s hand. Loki snatches his hand away, surprisingly quickly for somebody with a gaping hole in their chest. “Don’t touch my skin,” he warns Tony. “It will burn you.”

Tony acknowledges Loki’s warning with a stiff nod and instead wraps an arm around Loki’s back, nudging the frost giant’s arm over his shoulder. His fingers graze Tony’s skin through his shirt and Tony shivers as frost spreads out from the contact. “Lean on me,” Tony commands as he heaves Loki to his feet. “Little steps. Come on.”

“Mmmph,” Loki hums, allowing Tony to guide him into Tony’s sleeping area. Tony rolls him gently onto the unmade sheets. (Mental note - get those washed soon. Without anybody seeing.) He clicks on the bedside light so he can check out Loki’s wound. Wherever the mage had been previously, he had taken the time to strip himself of his overcoat and chestplate, leaving him in only his lower armour and a loose, long sleeved green shirt covered in blood. “JARVIS, do me a favour and scan Loki here?”

JARVIS recognizes Tony’s requests by powering on his scanning system and taking an analysis of Loki’s condition. The bright blue light is followed what sounds almost like somebody hissing through their teeth. Probably not a good sign, if it’s an artificial intelligence doing it. 

“Any day, JARVIS,” Tony says. 

“ _ Yes, sir. My scan shows that Mr. Loki has sustained severe trauma to the upper chest area.” _

“No way,” Loki coughs, one arm flung over his eyes. “I could never have figured that one out.”

“ _ The wound is five inches long, and approximately seven centimetres wide. His sternum shows signs of being shattered, _ ” JARVIS continues, “ _ But appears to have been in the process of healing. I count several fractures in the costal cartilage of ribs one through four, and vertebrae one through five are all damaged, with vertebrae three and four in the same condition as the sternum. Both pectoralis major muscles are torn. All injuries seem to have been healing, going by the new tissue I discovered. My best guess is that sudden movement caused the healing sections to redamage themselves. _ ”

 

“Fuck,” Tony curses. He grabs the bunched up, bloodied sheets and presses them against Loki’s chest because fuck it, he’ll just burn them, it’s not like they could get any worse. Loki flinches. “Ouch,” he hisses. “Sorry,” Tony says, standing up and pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Just...hold that there, okay? I’m going to call a friend of mine, she’s real good at stuff like this, if I can get her over here you’ll be fine-”

“No,” Loki interjects. Tony freezes with half of Helen Cho’s number dialed into his phone. “What? Loki, if we don’t get you help, you’re going to  _ die. _ ”

Loki rolls onto his side, one hand tightly clutching the sheet to his chest. “Please, Tony. No one can know I’m here.  _ No one can know I’m alive. _ ”

Reluctantly, Tony lowers his phone. “Then what do I do? How can I help?”

Loki falls back against the pillows, coughing. “I am too weak to use my powers to heal myself; that is why I look like this. All of my energy went into repairing my body, but I cannot keep it up.”

“Yeah, that’s not an answer, Lokes.”

“I know,” Loki rasps. “I wasn’t done. Do you remember when I brought you back, all those months ago?”

Tony nods. “Yeah, it haunts my dreams now and then. Why?”

Loki gestures faintly at Tony. “Some of my magic still burns within you. Not much, but enough.” He breaks off as his body is wracked with a fit of coughing. “But if you touch me, you will be hurt. And I cannot guarantee you will heal.”

Tony stashes his phone back in his pocket and sits down on the bed next to Loki. “Okay, you’ve gotta know by now that I couldn’t care less if I got hurt, if it means you live. What do I have to do?”

Loki closes his eyes and sighs, head lolling to one side. Tony thinks, for one horrible moment, that Loki’s died in front of him, but then Loki opens his eyes again and fixes Tony with a familiar expression of fond exasperation. “One day, your stubbornness is going to get you killed,” he mutters. “Yeah, I’m aware. Didn’t answer the question, Macbeth.”

Loki starts coughing again. He doesn’t stop. In between convulsions, he’s gasping for breath and fresh blood is spraying from his lips. “ _ Sir, Mr. Loki’s condition is worsening, _ ” JARVIS warns. Tony barely processes the words before he rolls up his sleeve and grabs Loki’s hand. At first, there’s only a slight tingling sensation. But that swiftly turns into a burning, heart stopping cold, biting down deep into Tony’s skin. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Tony sees his skin turning a sickly shade of blue, shining under a thin layer of ice that’s spreading out from Loki’s touch. He bites his lip to keep from crying out in pain. “Take it,” Tony orders. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll be fine.”

Loki gently squeezes Tony’s hand with cold fingers in reluctant compliance. A soft green glow starts to emanate from within their intertwined hands. The coldness of Loki’s skin grows harsher as Loki gets a hold of the remnants of magic. As he extracts it, the cold is joined by a boiling hot feeling. Every molecule in Tony’s body is on fire, and his breath is coming in short, desperate gasps.  _ Do it for Loki,  _ he repeats to himself. 

Loki lets go of Tony’s arm, and they both promptly pass out on bloodied sheets.

 

***

 

Sigyn had once told Loki that love makes people do stupid things. A common piece of knowledge, but Loki had taken it to heart nonetheless. It was because of Loki’s love for her that they had fled Asgard, and out of love for his children that he hid them away so they could never be harmed again. And it’s because of love that he came back to Midgard, of all places, even though he could have gone anywhere, for nobody was going to stop him. If he hadn’t had something worth nearly dying for - again - on Earth, he probably would be halfway across the universe finding a new planet to wreak havoc on. The whole trek from Svartalfheim to Earth had nearly cost Loki his life, but when he wakes up in the bedroom of Tony Stark, he decides it was all worth it. 

 

In the daylight, Loki’s able to get a better feel for his surroundings. He’s in Stark Tower, that much is clear. But it’s...different. Somehow. It feels more lived in, which is odd, seeing as it was supposed to be a vacation home for when Tony had a business trip or wanted a change of scenery. The sheet’s he’s laying in are still bloodstained underneath him, but the top sheet has been stripped off and is probably the source of the faint burning smell coming from the ensuite bathroom. 

He’s disappointed but not shocked to discover he’s still in his Jotun form. The small boost of power Tony had given him was enough to knit his body back together somewhat, but not enough to keep up any sort of illusion. With all his magic working to heal himself, Loki didn’t know when he’d be back to full power. 

 

Tony must’ve woken up before Loki did, because when Loki’s hand brushes against his chest, he discovers the large swathes of gauze that are tightly wrapped around his upper body. This alludes to the probability that A, Loki’s shirt has almost certainly joined the fiery fate of the top sheet, and B, at some point, Tony had to undress Loki. Disappointing, Loki thinks, that it was only because he was unconscious and bleeding out.

In the far corner of the bedroom, on a desk covered in assorted papers and trinkets, sits a stereo playing soft music. The sunlight that comes in through the open windows is warm on Loki’s skin, and the view of New York sprawls out endlessly. Loki is overcome with a sense of peace. It’s the first time in months he’s felt this calm. 

 

“Morning, beautiful,” Tony says, announcing his arrival. Loki turns to see him leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Loki admits. “But a little stronger than last night. Are you faring alright? I hope you were not too seriously injured when you foolishly took my hand.”

Tony chuckles. “Okay, ignoring that very obvious jab, I’m doing fine.” He raises his arm, the one Loki had taken last night, to show it’s enclosed in what Loki recognizes as one of Tony’s repulsor gauntlets. “I’ve got the heat setting up and running. It’s a little numb, but it won’t fall off, so don’t worry about it.”

“That was reckless, you know,” Loki tells him in a reprimanding tone. “You’re lucky you can still use your arm.”

Tony shrugs and pushes himself off of the doorframe. He walks over to sit down beside Loki. “Did you expect anything different from me? Because if you did, I’ve gotta say, Lokes, I’m disappointed.”

Loki crosses his arms and pretends the movement doesn’t cause all the muscles in his upper body to scream out in pain. “One can always hope,” he says smoothly.

Tony snorts in laughter, unable to contain his smile. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“And I, you,” Loki responds, fighting the urge to pull Tony into a bear hug and not let go. 

Tony folds one of his legs up to his chest and rests his injured arm upon his knee. “How’d you even get here? Not for nothing, but weren’t you on a different planet?”

Loki dips his head. “Yes, I was on Svartalfheim, the planet of the dark elves. I managed to find one of the elves’ ships that still functioned, and flew back using that.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief. “You flew back to Earth in a  _ spaceship _ ?”

“It was the easiest option.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, but it was a  _ spaceship.  _ Where is it now? Can I see it?”

Loki cuts Tony off by raising his hand. “I’ve hidden the ship away for use in the future. It would be unwise to search for it.”

Tony pouts. “But  _ Loki.  _ Loki, love of my life, that ship could change the course of human history, it could be the next technological breakthrough, it-”

“Anthony,” Loki says sternly. “I am not having this discussion with you. It cannot be used until the moment is right, and I will not be the one to use it.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tony questions, puzzled by Loki’s semi-cryptic answer. 

“I admit, as of right now, I don’t know,” Loki says. “But I have a feeling I will find out eventually. Now, please drop the subject.”

“But-”

Loki shoots Tony an impatient glare. Tony shrinks under Loki’s red gaze. “Okay. Sorry. I won’t bring the amazingly cool spaceship up again.”

“Thank you,” Loki says coolly. “How about you tell me what you’ve been up to while I was away? My experiences in the past few months have hinted you had to deal with a new antagonist.”

“I’m assuming you’re talking about the freaky psychic hallucination shit?”

Loki cracks a smile. “Yes, that. Apologies, by the way. Still trying to work out what’s causing that.”

Tony bobs his head in understandment. “Fair enough. And yeah, I’ve been dealing with some shit.” He gestures around them. “For example, I threatened a terrorist and he blew up the house, which is why I’m now living here, in Avengers Tower.”

Loki’s expression changes from curious to a rather terrifying mix of alarm and disbelief. “You did  _ what _ ?” He says, and his voice is level and cool, but Tony still scoots away from him slightly because it sounds rather like Loki is preparing to turn him into a human-sized icicle. “In my defense, I was provoked,” he says meekly.   
Loki clasps his hands together on his lap. “Explain.”

Tony clears his throat. “Right. Okay. Well. There was this guy, right? And he kept threatening the government, and, well, the whole world, and that’s not cool, so I may or may not have told him to fight me on live television.”

Loki doesn’t reply. When Tony glances over at him, the god is simply staring at Tony, a politely sinister smile plastered across his face. Tony gulps. He probably should’ve prepared to explain all this to Loki by dressing in a parka and having a flamethrower on hand, in case Loki decides that the human icicle idea would be a good way to go. 

“Tony Stark,” Loki says sweetly, “You are, by far, the most brash and most stubborn man I know, and I grew up with the god of being stubborn and brash.”

Tony scoots back a couple centimeters more. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

Loki’s vaguely murderous expression breaks as he looks at Tony in adoration. (It’s a nice look; Tony missed it.) “My love, you would not be yourself if you were not an idiot. You were foolish, but you won, in the end. You are alright, and that’s all that matters.” 

“Sap,” Tony mutters. 

“Idiot.”

 

***

 

Let it be known that Tony is a downright terrible actor. Case in point - he walked downstairs to check on a project he’d been working on with Bruce, forgot he was supposed to be mourning, and accidentally rounded the corner singing “Don’t Stop Believing”, only to run straight into Clint, who gave him an indescribable look and asked, very quietly, if Tony needed him to call someone.

 

Loki had laughed for five minutes straight when Tony had told him about it.

 

Asshole.

 

On the bright side, being “in mourning” gave him a great reason to stay in his room all day and not have somebody - Steve, usually - breaking down his door to make sure he wasn’t passed out or kidnapped or something. He generally just takes a couple trips a day down to the lab, throws some shit in a box, and then creates tiny, meaningless inventions while updating Loki about the goings-on on Earth. (His personal favourite is the tiny robot that drops sugar cubes into a mug of tea; it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever created, and it is  _ incredible. _ ) 

 

Although, despite all the bright sides and smiles and sappy commentary between one another, being back with Loki is a lot harder that Tony expected. The guy refuses to open up about what happened on Asgard, usually either changing the subject or simply clamming up and not talking whatsoever. It’s a tactic Tony recognizes a little too well - he uses it too, when he’s been through something emotionally draining and/or mentally scarring. He still hasn’t talked to anybody about the nightmares brought on by flying into that wormhole, or how he can’t be happy without being paranoid anymore because every time things  _ seem  _ to be working out, something usually blows up, or somebody gets shot, or something else equally as terrible. Tony  _ knows  _ something awful happened to Loki during his time in prison, because for God’s sake, he  _ felt it,  _ and he wants to help, but there’s not a lot he can  _ do.  _ His best idea is just to hold Loki and never let go, but according to Loki and also proved by the frostbitten mess that is his arm, touching Loki could result in a new addition to the ice sculpture museum that’s been started in Tony’s bedroom. (By this, Tony means the various objects Loki has accidentally frozen and are now positioned in a sort of decorative display over top of the television. These include four mugs, filled with frozen tea, a book, a StarkPad that will never function again, a throw pillow, and of course, a metal fork that had gotten stuck to Loki’s hand.) 

 

So until Tony can find a solution that’s better than the incredibly stupid idea he cooked up during one of the many nights spent on the couch, he’s going to settle for the little things. Like changing the sheets, or making sure Loki’s eating enough each day. He’ll keep coddling Loki until Loki can move by himself without screwing up his features in pain. 

 

“How is it that we always end up here?” Tony asks, one afternoon when the city is relatively villain-free and he’s leaning against the bed frame while Loki quietly reads a novel in bed. “End up where?” Loki asks in a soft voice. Tony waves away the hologram blueprints he was toying around with and crosses his arms. “You, in my bed, recovering from some life-threatening injury.”

Loki gives a low chuckle. “Yes, it is starting to become a bit of a tradition.”

“Not one I like,” Tony grumbles. “You’re like a magnet for dumb and horrific accidents.”

“That’s true,” Loki sighs. “But you’ll be happy to know that I can feel my magic slowly returning, meaning I can get rid of this infernal thing.”

Tony tilts his head up to get an upside down look at Loki. “What thing?”

Loki gestures to himself. “This hideous form.”

Tony shifts himself around. “What? Lokes, you aren’t serious.”

Loki blinks. “Why wouldn’t I be? I can’t imagine it’s pleasant for you, seeing me like this.”

“Since when did my opinion matter?” Tony says. He jumps up on the bed and crosses his arms. “Have you been thinking I don’t like how you look?”

An awkward silence falls between the two of them. “Well,” Loki says finally, quietly. “Most people call me a monster upon seeing me in this form. Or they fixate me with looks of horror.”

Tony nudges him. “Am I most people?”

“No,” Loki admits. 

“Then there’s no problem, right?” Tony says. Loki exhales softly and shakes his head. “You truly aren’t affected by this?”

Tony raises his arm, still enclosed in the repulsor. “Except for this? No.” He puts on a falsetto voice. “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

Loki snorts and smacks Tony in the shoulder with his book. “Shut up,” he laughs. Tony grins. “There he is. You’re adorable when you smile, by the way.”

Loki hits him with the book again, this time in the head. “Ow!” Tony protests. Loki glowers in an incredibly non threatening way. “Stop.”

“Fine,” Tony says. “Princess.”

 

Loki kicks him off the bed. 

 

Laughing, Tony is about to launch himself back onto the bed and risk freezing to death by kissing Loki, but doesn’t get to, because there’s suddenly a loud knocking at the door. Loki and Tony both freeze and share an  _ oh shit  _ look. Loki shrinks down under the covers and Tony stands up, rubbing at his eyes and messing up his hair in a vain attempt to make himself look like he’s been doing nothing but laying in bed all day like a heartbroken teenager. Making sure Loki isn’t visible from the main door, Tony shuffles to the door - for the drama of it all - and opens it. He’s not exactly surprised to see that it’s Steve standing on the other side, patented Worried Mother™ expression on his face. “Hey, Tony,” he says softly, voice matching his expression perfectly. 

“Steve,” Tony replies, in his best  _ woe is me, my boyfriend is dead  _ tone. “Can I help you?”

Steve shifts on his feet. “Natasha is forcing all of us to go out tonight. Nothing big, just downtown to grab a couple drinks at some bar she’s been talking about. I know you’re still recovering from everything that’s happened, but we think it might be good if you get out of here for a while.”

“Aw, damn, Rogers, you really do care,” Tony says, only half jokingly. “Thanks for the invite, but I’d rather just stay home. I’ve got...stuff to do.”

Steve wants to try and convince him to come. Tony can see that. He’s trying real hard to refrain from fighting Tony on it - in a kind, motherly way, but fighting him nonetheless. Bless his soul, though, because instead of making a big deal about it, he just sighs and tucks his hands into the pockets of his leather aviator’s jacket. “Alright,” he says. “Maybe next week?”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Next week.”

Steve pats Tony on the shoulder and walks off. Tony shuts the door and leans against it. 

“The Captain?” Loki calls from the bedroom.

“Yep,” Tony answers, traipsing back over to Loki. “Wanted me to go out with him and the others tonight. Told him no, because I don’t want to leave you here by yourself.”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a piece of glass, my love. I will not break if you go have fun with your companions.”

“Says the guy with the hole in his chest,” Tony says dryly. Loki throws his head back in exasperation. “Tony. Seriously. I haven’t seen you leave these chambers since I arrived. You brought your machines from the lab up here just so you could still work while you watched me!” He gestures angrily at Dum-E and U, who sit in sad, burnt piles in the corner of the bedroom, half repaired. “I am recovering, Tony. I’m flattered you’re worried, but please,  _ please  _ take a break. Go have fun! Drink that pathetic Midgardian drink you call alcohol, make some memories with your comrades in arms, and forget about me for a couple hours! I’ll be alright, I promise.”

Tony crosses his arms. “I don’t think-”

Loki cuts him off with a swift hand motion. “ _ Go, _ ” he urges. “I love you, and it’s for that reason that I’m telling you that if you stay here any longer without taking a damn break, we are both going to lose our fucking minds. Don’t deny it, you know it’s true.”

Tony stares at him. “Y’know, it really does get me all hot and bothered when you use Earthen swears.”

Loki chucks a pillow at him. It hits Tony square in the face, causing him to stumble back. “It’s for emphasis, you heathen. Now go get changed. You look like something dragged from a sewer.” 

 

***

 

Okay, Tony will admit it. He missed getting out of the house. Sue him. (He says this, very loudly, to all his friends after his eighth shot.) There’s not a lot he remembers about that night, only that at some point, he offered to get Steve a girlfriend, and then five minutes later offered to find him a boyfriend, told Natasha a detailed story about last New Year’s Eve party that ended in Nat swearing to never bring Tony along on anything ever again, and although he doesn’t remember it, according to Clint, he flirted with the bartender, and then broke down in tears because he was “worried about his boyfriend”. 

 

All that disastrous shit aside, Tony had fun.

 

It’s significantly  _ less  _ fun when he wakes up the next morning with a headache that could rival any concussion he’s ever had. It feels like somebody is smacking him dead in the forehead with the prying end of a hammer. 

“JARVIS, do me a favour,” he groans with his face in a pillow. “Never let anybody talk me into doing something like that again, yeah?”

“ _ We both know that won’t work, _ ” JARVIS responds. 

“Fuck off,” whines Tony. 

“ _ As you wish, sir, _ ” JARVIS says, and the air goes dead. 

 

“Did you have fun?” says a voice that should definitely not be in the downstairs common room. Headache forgotten, Tony snaps his head up and squints through the painfully bright fog that is currently his vision just enough to make out the familiar, not-blue face of Loki. 

“Lokes?” he squeaks. Loki grins. “Hello, love. Fancy seeing you here.” He taps two fingers to Tony’s forehead and just like that, the headache is gone, as well as his half-blindness. “That’s all I’ve got, so don’t be injuring yourself any time soon,” Loki warns. He looks about to say something else, but doesn’t get the chance, because Tony flings himself off the couch and drags his boyfriend into a long-awaited kiss. 

 

“Hello again,” Loki laughs when he pulls away. “It’s not like you were gone for too long.”

 

“ _ You _ were,” mutters Tony. “Now shut up and kiss me again, Blue.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Country rooooaaaads, take me hoooooomeeeeeeee, to the plaaaaace, I BELOOOOOONGGGGGG
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Somebody save me


	24. One Hundred and Twenty-Three Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all they've been through, Loki and Tony finally get the chance to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They deserve to be happy.

Okay, so Tony lied. He hadn’t stopped counting the days since Thor took Loki back to Asgard. Well. Half-lied. He wasn’t  _ consciously  _ counting the days. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, some little unheard voice was as ticking each day that went by.  _ 58 days. 59. 60. 61. 62,  _ et cetera. The total was one hundred twenty-three days, fourteen hours, and twenty-four minutes. Approximately. Whatever the exact number is, Tony doesn’t bother figuring it out. It’s not important anymore. All that’s important is that right now, at this moment, this single, perfect moment, nothing is blowing up or on fire, nobody is dead, Tony’s blankets are warm and the man he loves is curled around him, one arm tucked over Tony’s waist with his hand intertwined with Tony’s own. Loki’s breathing is soft and steady, each exhale gently stirring Tony’s hair. It’s the most peaceful he’s looked since his return - each night he slept while still powerless, he tossed and turned until he woke up, usually clutching the sheets so hard they froze under his icy grasp. 

 

But now, Loki’s quiet. Now, everything’s alright. It might not last long, because peace is a hard thing to come by in Tony’s line of work, and even more so in Loki’s, but that’s okay, because the tragedies and injuries that will inevitably rear up are in the future, not in the moment. 

 

Smiling, Tony shifts closer to share Loki’s body heat, and for the first time in one hundred twenty-three days, fourteen hours, and twenty- _ six _ minutes, Tony has no trouble falling asleep. 

 

***

 

“I cannot  _ wait _ to get these off,” Loki sighs the next morning, while he’s standing shirtless in front of a mirror. The bandages still wrapped around his middle take up a little over half of his torso, like a crop top he can’t take off. It’s quite the fashion statement. 

“Well, you’re  _ going _ to wait,” Tony shoots back, only half-listening while he scrolls through music options on his phone, reclined on the bed with an arm behind his head and a leg balancing on his other knee. “Because if you even  _ try _ to take “those things” off before I say you can, I will tie your hands together so you can’t try again.”

Loki sends a suggestive smirk over his shoulder at Tony. “Getting dominant, are we? Do it more, I dare you.”

Tony tosses the closest thing he can grab - a decorative pillow  - at Loki’s head. The mage dodges it easily and the red canvas pillow smacks into the mirror and hits the ground.  “Maybe later, you flirt. First, I want to eat something. Then, I dunno, I’ll take you on a proper tour of New York or something, because you’ve been trapped in here longer than I have and frankly? It’s getting kind of awful.”

Loki snickers as he hooks the collar of a shirt with a finger and drags it over to himself. “Thank you,” he croons. Tony squints at him. “For what?”

“Proving my point,” responds Loki, with an impish grin.

“Oh, fuck off,” Tony grunts. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah,” Loki tosses at Tony. The mage tugs the plain, short-sleeved black shirt over his head, flinching when the fabric drags over his bandaged injury. The shirt is supposed to be form-fitting, but hangs in loose bunches off of Loki’s thin frame. Tony bites the inside of his lip upon seeing this - Loki suffered a lot more than he’s letting on during his time in Asgard’s dungeons. He’s just too stubborn to admit it? “Where do you suggest we go?” 

“Not sure yet,” Tony admits, dragged out of his growing concern and upset by the sound of Loki’s voice. “Maybe Central Park, or I could take you to the Empire State Building...it’s up to you.” 

“You do realize I know nothing about this city, right?” Loki grunts, flicking strands of hair trapped under the collar of his shirt out and over his shoulder. Tony rolls off of the bed and crosses the space between them in a few quick steps in order to wrap his arms around Loki’s waist and press a kiss against the cool, pale skin of his boyfriend’s neck. “Yeah, that’s why I’m dragging you out of here. You live here now. You’ve gotta know your way around.”

Loki tilts his head back, relishing in the attention Tony’s giving him. Strands of curly black hair slip over Loki’s shoulder, tickling Tony’s face. He gives a contented hum and twists in Tony’s embrace, in order to rest his arms on Tony’s shoulders and lock eyes with the shorter man. Tony notices, while looking up at his lover - damn him for being so tall, Tony almost has to stand on  _ tip toes  _ just to be at eye level - that Loki’s eyes, once a mesmerizing shade of dark green, are now mottled with flecks of red, the same shade that his Jotun form’s eyes were. “You changed your eyes,” Tony observes, running a thumb over the bone just under Loki’s eye. Loki grabs it in a flash and presses a kiss to Tony’s palm. “I did,” he says. “A small detail, yes, and pointless, perhaps, but it is a way for me to start to accept who I am.” 

Tony grins. “It suits you. Goes with your mysterious, edgy aesthetic.” 

Loki chuckles, the noise low in his throat. “Indeed.”

One of his hands presses lightly on the small of Tony’s back, guiding him up, slowly, gently, into a kiss. It’s different than the kisses shared before, a little less desperate, less messy. This time, there’s no making up for lost days, no frenzy to fit in words that are impossible to say. There’s nothing complex about it. It’s just...them. Just Loki, kissing Tony. Just Tony, kissing Loki, in the quiet, open space of Tony’s bedroom at the top of his tower like he’s some princess in a fairytale and Loki the dashing prince who dared to fall in love with him. 

Loki tastes like the tea he drinks every morning - Chai, Tony remembers, with milk and honey. Loki’s body is lean and strong against Tony’s, despite the weight he lost in prison. Through the soft fabric of Loki’s shirt, Tony can feel the edges of the bandages wrapped tightly around Loki’s middle. He becomes aware, suddenly, of Loki’s fingers slipping under his shirt, tracing patterns onto Tony’s skin with cold hands. Tony shudders and draws away, taking a couple steps back. “Sorry, did I surprise you?” Loki murmurs, voice only just loud enough to be audible. “Your hands are  _ freezing _ ,” Tony responds. 

“Does it bother you?” Loki drawls. “I do apologize.”

Tony scowls. “It bothers me when you give me no warning before sticking your freezing hands up my shirt.”

Loki has the audacity to grin like the little shit he is before lunging at Tony again and tackling him backwards, making sure to slip his hands against Tony’s bare skin before they land on the bed behind them. Tony shrieks and smacks Loki in the chest as he collides with the mattress. “Get  _ off _ , you heathen!” He howls, writhing around in an attempt to escape his boyfriend’s obnoxiously cold hands. Loki laughs and draws back, flopping sideways onto the mattress. He’s still chortling to himself when Tony scrambles into a sitting position and pulls his shirt back down. “That was uncalled for,” he grumbles. 

“I think it was one hundred percent called for,” says his jerk of a boyfriend, through small, hiccuped laughs. “You were practically asking for it.”

Tony glowers down at the sprawled out god next to him. Loki’s multi-coloured eyes are shining with mirth, face flushed bright pink from laughing, hair spread out in a tangled, curly mess around his face. Tony wants to be mad - to reprimand him, or  _ something _ , but he can’t, because for God’s sake, Loki is  _ giggling.  _

 

What a dick.

 

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” Tony huffs. Loki stops his inane laughing fit just long enough to roll onto his stomach and prop his head up on a fist. “Am I?” he says, feigning shock. 

Tony bobs his head. “Yep. You’re going to sleep over there-” he jabs a finger at the plush white couch strewn with throw pillows and a white woollen blanket. “-While I curl up here, nice and warm, and you’ll have to stare up at the ceiling and lament to yourself about how mean you were to me today.” Tony goes on, at one point putting on a very fake and frankly a little insulting british accent in order to mock Loki, who is slowly pushing himself off of his stomach and shifting towards Tony. “Alternatively,” he suggests, “I listen to your wonderful rant about what will happen if I sleep on the couch, and call that good enough. How does that sound?”

Tony shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Zero chance. I’m telling you right here, I’m not going to put up with your bad behaviour just because you’re injured!”

Loki gives a little disparaged noise as he leans in, close enough for Tony to feel his breath. “You sure?”

Tony tugs on one of Loki’s curls. “Yep. Hope you enjoy the couch, princey.”

“Right,” Loki says, a singsong lilt to his voice. He’s grinning as he captures Tony’s lips in another kiss, one hand finding Tony’s atop the neatly made comforter and lacing their fingers together. “You do like your kisses,” Tony mumbles, when they pull apart for air. Loki shrugs his lean shoulders. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“Y’know what? Fair enough. C’mere, space boy.”

Loki, snorting at the new addition to the continuously growing encyclopedia of Tony’s bad nicknames, happily obliges. 

 

***

 

There’s something so thrilling about being able to be out with Loki in public. Being out with his  _ boyfriend  _ in public. God, saying that makes Tony feel like a highschooler again. He supposes it’s sort of an accurate comparison, though. His relationship with Loki does, in some aspects, feel very much like a high school relationship. There was the awkward “both of us like each other but are too afraid to do anything about it” stage, the “ok, we hold hands now and kiss sometimes, but are we  _ really  _ a couple?” stage, and who could forget the “yep, we’re a couple, let’s make out on every surface possible to celebrate” stage. 

But there they are. Walking down the sidewalk in New York City, holding hands like every other couple they pass by. 

 

Loki can’t disguise himself with magic yet, he’s not strong enough, but he’s made do with a dark blue knit beanie, under which he’s hidden his hair, and a grey woollen scarf neatly tucked into the front of his fur-lined leather jacket. In the brisk autumn air, he blends right in. Tony feels a strange sense of glee as he walks past the strangers in the street - mainly because they’re all passing by the biggest tabloid magazine story of the decade, and they’ve got no idea. 

 

When the air turns colder, Tony suggests they stop at a coffee shop for lunch. They pick up coffee for Tony and tea for Loki, as well as a selection of fresh pastries they eat while sitting on a bench in a little park across the street. It’s not cold enough outside for snow, not yet, at least, but it’s chilly enough to bring a pink flush to Tony’s cheeks. Loki, of course, stays pale as ever, unaffected by the cold. His breath comes in small clouds as he bites into an apple danish. 

“I didn’t think I would ever see this place again,” Loki says quietly after he’s finished eating. His eyes are sad as he gazes out across the park, ground strewn with rust coloured leaves that only just cover the brown grass. “Yeah?” Tony questions, voice equally as soft. Loki flicks his head in a short nod. “I had sort of given up hope on escaping that place,” he admits with a sad sort of laugh. “But here I am. Miracles do happen, I suppose.”

“They do,” Tony agrees. “I want to say I never stopped believing that you would come back, but…” he shrugs. “You’d be able to tell I was lying.”

Loki leans back against the metal bars that make up the bench and folds his arms tight against his chest. “I used to be so in awe of Asgard, Tony. I wholeheartedly believed that it was the greatest of the nine realms.” He pauses for a moment in order to give a scornful chuckle. “How wrong I was.”

Tony rolls up the top of the paper bag containing the rest of the pastries and sets them down beside himself, turning to give his full attention to his boyfriend. 

“I suppose I began to hate Asgard when I discovered my true parentage,” Loki continues, tilting his head back in order to survey the grey sky above him. “Yet I still missed it, while I was away. When I was here. But being in those dungeons, a place that has unnerved me since my childhood...I cannot bear the thought of ever returning to that planet. Not now, not ever. I was scared to admit it to myself before, because letting go of Asgard meant letting go of the last part of my old life, but...I don’t think I’m afraid anymore. I believe I am ready to say goodbye to that part of myself.” 

Loki reaches over and takes Tony’s gloved hand in his own bare one. “In a way, I did die on Svartalfheim. Metaphorically speaking. My past died, and I was reborn as somebody new. Somebody...well, I would like to believe somebody  _ better _ . I am not beginning a new chapter in my book of life; I am beginning a new story altogether. I can  _ finally  _ close the cover on the story of Loki Odinson. I am standing on a precipice, Anthony, and I am not afraid to jump.” 

Loki’s smile grows. “In fact, I cannot wait to take that leap.”

 

***

 

It starts to snow as the first colours of sunset touch the sky. The white flakes drift lazily down from the clouds, settling upon buildings and sidewalks, covering the blue tarps and scaffolding that still cordons off large chunks of the city. The snow casts a sense of peace over the bustling city, giving the citizens a rare chance to breathe in the mess of everyday life. The flakes gradually begin to clump together as they fall, until the ground is blanketed in wet, sticky snow. It crunches under the boots of passersby as they hurry to escape the cold and the fast-approaching nighttime.

 

Loki, from what Tony can gather, is greatly enjoying the change of weather. He’s kicking at the snow as they walk back to the tower, a goofy smile plastered across his face. He hasn’t said much since their discussion on the bench, and Tony still doesn’t feel comfortable bringing up what actually happened while he was on Asgard. He’s too happy right now for Tony to weigh him down with the memories of his imprisonment. That’s a conversation that will come in due time - maybe in a week, maybe longer. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day. It will come when Loki feels ready to bring it up. 

 

“May I ask you something?” Loki says suddenly, dropping back so he can walk in like with Tony again. “Shoot,” Tony replies, side stepping around a pedestrian who’s rushing along the sidewalk. Loki bites the inside of his lip in thought before continuing.  “Have you ever been with somebody like me before? I remember you saying a while back that it was rare, but I can’t help but wonder nonetheless.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “I can assure you that I have never been with anybody like you, ever.”

Loki elbows him in the arm. “Let me rephrase that. Have you been with a  _ man  _ before.”

“Oh.” Tony shakes his head. “No. And, well, if I’m honest, I haven’t exactly been in an actual relationship with a guy before. The longest one I had was in twelfth grade. I think his name was like, Gavin, or something? And it wasn’t really a relationship. More of a month-long booty call.”

“Ah.” Loki shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his snow-dusted jacket. “I see.”

Tony winces. “Sorry.”

Loki glances over at him, confusion gracing his features. “For what? You have done nothing wrong.”

“You sounded pissed.”

“Anthony, I always sound pissed.”

Tony snorts out a laugh. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Loki grins and knocks their shoulders together in a friendly gesture. “In all seriousness, though, I am not angry with you. Or even mildly displeased. In fact, if I am being sincere, I am more than a little relieved.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

Loki kicks up another clump of snow. “I have no clue what I’m doing, Tony. I was afraid you would have some sort of expectation for me, set in place by past lovers.” 

Tony glances over at his boyfriend, slightly troubled by the genuine worry in his lilting voice. “Loki,” he sighs. “Come on.”

Loki ducks his head down in embarrassment. “It’s a fair concern, Tony! Don’t you think?”

“Hey,” Tony says, sternly, pivoting on a heel and jamming a finger against Loki’s chest, a little bit above his healing injury. “Listen to me. And also, please tell me if I’m going to walk into something because I’m going to walk backwards until I’ve said my piece.”

 

Loki’s eyebrows raise until they disappear beneath his beanie. 

 

“There is absolutely nothing about you that compares to anybody I’ve ever dated before,” Tony continues. “I couldn’t put you in a category even if I wanted to - which I don’t, by the way, just to clarify. You’re a total enigma to me, Lokes. I don’t understand most things about you and I probably never will, and you know what? That’s fine. That’s great, actually. Never try to change yourself for me. Okay?”   
Loki allows a smile to sneak past his relatively straight face. “Very well, Tony. I am glad we got that out of the way. Now, if you would, please stop walking backwards. You are going to hurt yourself.”

Tony gives him a mocking sort of salute and spins around so he can see where he’s going again. They’re rounding the corner onto the street the tower is located. (Thank God - Tony can feel his fingers starting to go numb.) 

 

Lady Luck must be on their side, because nobody is awake when Tony and Loki slip through the downstairs doors of the tower. At least, nobody is on the ground floor, which allows the couple to shake the snow off of their clothing and strip out of the heavy winter wear before making their way to the elevator. The lights come on automatically as they walk across the sleek black floor of the lobby, leaving wet, muddy footprints on the otherwise spotless tiles in their wake. The main desk is empty, the occupant having gone home long ago, and the computer screens are displaying colourful screensavers until they eventually turn off. 

“I had fun today,” Loki announces as the elevator doors close behind them. He’s taken off his beanie and his hair is a frizzy mess of curls that will undoubtedly be a nightmare to tame. “Me too,” Tony admits. “It’s nice to ignore the superhero shit once and awhile.”

“Quite right,” Loki agrees. “It can get ever so exhausting.” The mage folds his jacket neatly and drapes it over one arm. Tony yawns and leans against the back wall of the elevator. The little white numbers above the doors ding each time they pass a floor.  _ 15\. 16. 17 18 19. Recreational areas. Party deck. Labs.  _

 

Thirty-eight floors later, the glass doors slide open and a sweet, metallic female voice rings out through the elevator.  _ “Penthouse suite,”  _ it announces, and in one fluent motion, Loki and Tony step forward and walk into the small, plant-decorated hallway that leads to Tony’s rooms. They both hang up their coats on the hooks outside the heavy, frosted glass doors, and leave their wet boots on the mat. “ _ Welcome home, sir, _ ” JARVIS utters, and the doors swing open. “ _ And welcome home, Mr. Loki. Did you have a pleasant day? _ ”

“Yep,” Tony tells his A.I., padding into his apartment, Loki in tow. “Had a blast. Anything important I should know about?”

“ _ Mr. Barton got stuck in the vents while trying to surprise Miss Romanoff, _ ” JARVIS reports. “ _ Captain Rogers had to break him out. _ ”

Tony cackles at the thought. “Thanks, J.  _ Please  _ tell me you got that on camera.”

“ _ Affirmative, sir. _ ”

Tony grins and spins around to address Loki. “See, this is why having an all-powerful artificial intelligence is great. Blackmail material. Because everybody who lives here, at some point, does something incredibly stupid. For example, and I’ll show it to you when I find it, last week the front door cam caught Agent Hill walk into the glass door and drop a box of takeout on the pavement.”

Now it’s Loki’s turn to fail to hide a smile. “You are devious, my love.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, sounding much to casual for someone who just admitted to recording his friends’ embarrassing moments. “You want a drink? I’ll pour you something.”

Loki follows him over to the bar. “Just wine is alright,” he says, leaning across the counter and watching as Tony pulls one of the elegant glass bottles off of the shelf. “On it,” Tony tells him, nabbing a wine glass from a different shelf. Loki blows a kiss at him and pushes off the counter. He wanders over to the big windows overlooking the city - the same place he fell from, what felt like lifetimes ago. Loki sits down on the leather sofa and curls up next to one of the armrests, head resting on his arms. “Reminiscing?” Tony asks, passing Loki a tall glass of dark red wine and plopping down on the couch next to him. Loki gives a little jerk of his head in thanks. “Yes,” he admits. “So much has changed since we stood here together, with that battle raging outside. I do not look back on it fondly, but unfortunately, these days, I sort of wish we could have that time again. Before everything got, you know…” he waves his hand around and takes a lengthy sip from his glass. 

Tony swirls the brandy in his own cup around. “I see where you’re coming from. Things were a lot easier back then. I wasn’t running a glorified hotel. You weren’t recovering from being a human kebab. But let me tell you, I  _ never  _ want to relive that shit again.” He downs a swallow of brandy. “I already dream about it enough.”

Loki throws him a worried look. “Your nightmares still plague you?”

Tony shrugs. “Eh. Can’t do anything about it ‘cept ignore it. And drink. If it gets bad.”

“Not true,” Loki argues, and leans over to push the glass away from Tony’s lips. “There is always another solution. Don’t repress things. It makes them worse.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “I  _ know,  _ Lokes. And I’m trying to improve.”

Loki shifts around to lean against Tony. “That’s good,” he murmurs. “That’s all I can ask for.”

He leans up and brushes a kiss against Tony’s jawline. “I love you, Anthony.”

Tony wraps an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Yeah. Love you too, Blue.”

 

***

 

The clock on Tony’s nightstand reads 1:23 AM. Loki watches the small numbers beside it count the seconds, until 1:23 turns into 1:24 and the cycle continues. The blinds are drawn but light from the ever active city still finds its way into the bedroom. Loki doesn’t mind. It keeps him grounded, tells him that he’s here. On Midgard. Where he should be. Asgard is just a memory, now. A piece of the past. His future is uncertain, for the most part, but Loki can only hope that the one constant is Tony. Tony, who, in the present, is asleep against him, one arm gently resting over top of Loki’s chest. And if there’s that one constant, that one thing to keep Loki looking forward, then the future doesn’t scare him. 

 

Loki strokes Tony’s hair and presses a kiss against his forehead. The mechanic grunts in his slumber and shifts against Loki, but stays asleep. The warm glass of his arc reactor presses against Loki’s bare skin, just for a moment. Loki smiles to himself. 

 

One hundred and twenty-three days, fourteen hours, and twenty-four minutes. 

 

Loki counted every second of that time. Each night, before he slept, he would scratch another line into the inside cover of a notebook and hope that one day soon, he would be able to stop. 

It took one hundred and twenty-three days, less if you count the time he spent unconscious on a dead planet, but Loki was able to stop counting. 

 

And if he can help it, he will never have to count the days he’s away from Tony again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two fun facts:
> 
> One: I hate snow. This chapter makes it seem sorta romantic. Don't let that fool you. Snow is an unholy creation meant to create suffering and really, really cold early winters in fucking OCTOBER.
> 
> Two: Say goodbye to the angst, because it's fluff city from here on out. For a while, at least. I've had an incredibly rough and sorta scary couple of weeks so,,,I need to write happy things.


	25. Who Said Life Had to Make Sense?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki tries to make sense of the bizarre bond he has with Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2:30 in the morning as I'm posting this I'm gonna die

“Stop squirming!”

 

“It _hurts_!”

 

“And it would hurt _less_ if you quit smacking me every five seconds, dipshit!”

 

Loki makes a low noise deep in his throat and flinches away as Tony tries, once again, to cut through the gauze wrapped around Loki’s chest. “Loki! Come on!” Tony complains, hooking a finger through the top of the bandages to stop Loki from moving away again. “But it _hurts,_ ” Loki whines. “You don’t need to be so rough!”

“I’m not _being_ rough,” Tony protests. “You’re making it worse for yourself by struggling. Knock it off!”

Loki grumbles something under his breath and balls his hands into fists as Tony snips through the last few strips of gauze. “There,” Tony says triumphantly, pulling away the bandages and tossing them into the nearby garbage can. “I’d say that wasn’t so hard, but you were acting like a three-year-old, so...”

Loki scowls at him and runs his fingertips over the bare skin of his chest. He slides off the bathroom counter and goes to look in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. “Well, it’s not exactly pretty,” he sighs, examining the newly scarred tissue in the middle of his chest. The wound is healed, for the most part, but it hasn’t healed nicely. It’s jagged and crude-looking, a little longer than one of Tony’s hands. While the skin around it, though puckered and pink, matches the rest of Loki’s skin tone, the innermost part, the part that was damaged the most, remains a deep shade of sky blue. Loki’s expression sours at the sight, and he snaps his vision away from the mirror and becomes really quite interested in the clouded glass door of the shower stall.

Tony sets the scissors down on the counter and paces over, resting his hand in the curve of Loki’s back. “At least it’s not bleeding,” Tony says, attempting to lift Loki’s spirits. “And hey, look.” He tugs down the collar of his shirt so the edge of the arc reactor is showing. “Now we match.”

Loki smiles at that. “We do,” he says faintly. “I suppose it isn’t all that terrible.”

 

“Shit, Lokes, I hadn’t noticed just how marked up you are,” Tony remarks, seeing all the smaller scars that marr Loki’s pale skin. Loki flashes a grin. “I did grow up as a warrior, you know. Scars were like badges we earned. You should see Thor.”

“Y’know, as dashing as your brother is, I really don’t think I want to see him naked. You, on the other hand...that I wouldn’t mind.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “Classy, Anthony.”

Tony grins. “Just saying. So,” he questions, tapping a long, thin scar that runs from just below Loki’s ribs to his hip, “Where’d you get this one?”

Loki looks down to see which one Tony’s referring to. “I believe that was from a Berserker, when I was around seventeen? He came at me with a spear and I didn’t duck away in time.”

“Damn. And...this one?” Tony’s fingers wander up to a set of four vaguely circular gashes on Loki’s left shoulder.

“Sparring session gone wrong,” Loki recalls. “Thor caught me with a flail.” He smiles almost fondly at the memory. “He felt so bad afterwards that he requested I stab him for recompense. I did, of course, and now he has a scar to match.”

Tony snorts. “You two had a weird sibling relationship. Lots of stabbing.”  
“Lots of stabbing,” Loki agrees.

 

Tony walks in a circle around Loki, tracing the thin white outlines of scars. “This one looks nasty,” he says, stopping at an array of three long, slender cuts. “Wolf attack,” Loki tells him. “It was not exactly thrilled when I stuck it with a knife.”

Tony hisses through his teeth. “Ow.”

Loki shrugs. “Actually, it was quite a proud moment for me. I took down my first beast, and got my first battle scars. Plus, a beautiful pelt that Mother made into a cloak for me.”

“How old were you?”

Loki bites his lip in contemplation. “In Midgardian years? Around ten, I would think.”

“Christ, your traditions are weird.”

“Yes,” Loki agrees. “But I thoroughly enjoyed most of them.”

Tony chuckles. “Of course you did.”

Loki smiles and pecks Tony on the lips. “Okay. Your turn.”

Tony furrows his brow. “For what?”

Loki tugs on the hem of Tony’s pyjama shirt. “Tell me about your scars, Tony.”

Tony looks at his boyfriend skeptically for a moment before pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it to the side, where it joins Loki’s shirt in a heap. “Fine. M’kay, this one here?” He points at a faded, uneven scar a few inches below the reactor and a couple centimetres to the right. “This was pre-Iron Man. Got it when I was still in college. This one night,  after an exam, me and my buddies got wasted and in trying to prove I could do a handstand, I fell on a beer bottle and it broke. Had to take a trip to the E.R. and get four chunks of glass removed. Not exactly a moment for the history books.”

He twists around, looking for another one. “Oh, and here. This one I got after getting punched through a wall and having part of my suit stab me. That was fun. Or this one right here, that was from a lab accident that went really, _really_ wrong.”

Loki shakes his head. “And you say I am reckless.”

“We both are,” Tony points out. “And that’s why we are, and I’m serious here, _the most_ dangerous couple on the planet.”

Loki doesn’t respond for a moment. He gazes at Tony, eyes soft, smile even more so. “What?” Tony says, taken aback by Loki’s sudden change in demeanor. “Nothing,” Loki says. “Just that you called us a couple.”

Tony swallows heavily. “I mean...that’s what we are, right? I haven’t been imagining all the kissing and shit?”

“No, of course not,” Loki says. “I just...I haven’t heard it _out loud_ before.”

“Do you want me to say it louder?” Tony suggests. “Because I can do that. I could say it over the intercom. Walk around mainstreet announcing it. Put it on a billboard.”

“Absolutely _not,_ ” Loki reprimands. Tony grins cheekily. “Yeah, okay. Maybe that’s a little too extreme.”

“Just a little?” Loki says peevishly.

“Only a bit,” Tony confirms.

 

***

 

It takes almost no time at all for Loki to convert his shared living space with Tony from a sleek, modern-day penthouse to a bizarre blend of 21st century Earth decor, Asgardian decor, viking relics that predate anything in the tower, including Steve, and Asgardian technology that holds the aesthetic of the relics but is more advanced than anything Tony has built yet. It’s like Malibu all over again - Tony walks into his bedroom and it’s been transformed into something straight out of _Lord of the Rings._ With added Stark Glamour™. His bed is still (mostly) there, thank god, and the television, minibar and most of Tony’s things are still there, but the tree is back, replacing the headboard of Tony’s bed, and there’s an entire rug made out of a huge wolf spread across the floor in the bedroom. That, and some of Loki’s personal effects have showed up, like an ornate bookcase, amulets and other magical ornaments, scrolls, and vials of sinister looking potions in glass bottles. “Didn’t know you were secretly every evil witch from a children’s movie,” Tony remarks as he sidles over to his boyfriend, who has curled up atop a green velvet fainting couch, looking graceful as always, gently illuminated by the pale autumn sun coming in through the windows. The mage is dressed casually today, wearing a loose grey-green tunic and silvery pants under a black, modern cardigan. His feet are bare, but a pair of slippers sit a few inches away from the bench, where they landed when Loki kicked them off.

Loki acknowledges Tony with a slight chuckle, but is too preoccupied on his work to actually respond. His “work” being painting strange runes onto his skin with a shimmering gold liquid. “Whatcha up to there, Lokes?” Tony inquires. This time, Loki actually glances up at him. “I am hiding myself from Heimdall’s watchful eye,” he answers. “These runes will obscure me from anybody seeking my whereabouts. With any luck, I will be able to live out the rest of my life unbothered by the royal family of Asgard.”

“Neat,” Tony says, and sits down on the other edge of the couch. “I was actually kinda worried about that. Gotta admit, having the assembled forces of Asgard kicking down my bedroom door was a little anxiety-inducing.”

“Tell me about it,” Loki hums, finishing another rune with a smooth flick of the brush. The golden symbol shines brightly for a moment before fading into Loki’s skin and disappearing, leaving unmarked skin behind. He runs a finger over it, probably to ensure it’s dried. Satisfied, he dips his brush back into the crystalline bowl of gold paint and starts the process over again, this time on his left hand.

“Where’d you even pull that out of?” Tony wonders aloud. “And, y’know, all this other shit you moved in here. It’s not exactly something you can grab from the local Ikea.”

Loki chuckles. “Remember that bag Thor gave you the night I returned?”

Tony’s sputters. “You pulled all of this out of _that_? Are you Mary Poppins or some shit?”

Loki wrinkles his face up as he laughs. “No, _min elske._ My magical objects were in that bag, but not everything else. I simply summoned the larger objects from my travelling rooms.”

“Okay, two things. One, you’ve got _travelling rooms_ ? Are tents not good enough for you? And two, _please_ teach me how to speak your funky Scandinavian language. I don’t know what the hell you’re saying half the time.”

Loki glances over at Tony, a smile playing at his lips. “I was a prince, Anthony. And a mage. Of course tents weren’t good enough; I enchanted mine so I could be comfortable and at home wherever I was. And as for the language...aldri, det er mye mer morsomt å se deg streve.” Loki punctuates his sentence with a cheeky wink. Tony scowls at him. “Oh, that’s hilarious.”

Loki waggles his eyebrows at Tony, still grinning. “I find it to be, yes.”

 

Had Loki not been delicately painting runes on himself, Tony probably would have kicked him.

 

“You really like annoying me, don’t you?” Tony sighs, at which Loki shrugs nonchalantly. “An astute observation, Anthony. I can see why people say you’re the smartest man alive.”

“Fuck off,” Tony grunts. He rolls off of the couch and goes to pour himself a drink from the minibar. He’s pulling the glass stopper out from a bottle of whisky when a sharp pain shoots through his right hand and he hisses in surprise. “Ouch! What the fuck?”

From across the room, Loki places his splintered paintbrush on the table next to the paint, narrowing his eyes. “Did you feel that?” He asks, nursing the spot on his hand where the brush handle had snapped and stabbed him in the palm. “Yeah…” Tony says slowly. “That’s new.”

Loki nods slowly, swinging his legs off of the couch and pacing over to Tony. His wool cardigan “Yes, before it would only occur while we were separated; but now it appears that has changed.”

 

An idea pops into Tony’s head, an obnoxiously bad idea, but he goes through with it anyways, mainly because he has no self-control when it comes to obnoxiously bad ideas.

He leans across the bar and socks Loki - hard - in the shoulder. Not one of his common love taps, but a full-out punch. Immediately, both of them recoil as a burst of pain blossoms through their shoulders. “Christ!” Tony exclaims, as Loki clutches his shoulder and fixes Tony with a fiery glare. “What in the _Hel_ was that for?” he snaps.

“An experiment?” Tony says weakly. Loki growls low in his throat. “Never do that again. It hurt.”

“Sorry,” Tony apologizes, and he’s sincere when he says it, as his shoulder is aching too and okay, the “experiment” wasn’t worth it. Loki huffs and rubs the sore part of his shoulder. “I feel that there might have been better ways to test this,” he points out. “Agreed,” Tony says through clenched teeth. “That hurt like a bitch. I suddenly feel sympathetic for all the people I’ve punched out. I’ve got a mean swing.”

Loki rolls his eyes and leans forward to fold his arms atop the granite countertop. “So, it appears this odd bond of ours is getting stronger. I will admit, I did not expect this. And what’s worse, I...don’t have an explanation.”

“Maybe our love makes it stronger,” Tony suggests. He’s only half joking, and this either flies right over Loki’s head or Loki just flat-out disregards the “joking” part of it and actually appears to consider this. “You may just be on to something there, Tony.”

“I was kidding, you know,” Tony says flatly, to no avail as his boyfriend sinks into another one of his “contemplation sessions” where he sits and stares blankly at whatever’s in front of him until he figures out whatever sent him into the dissociative state in the first place. “Awesome,” Tony bemoans. “See you in ten years, bud.”

He pats Loki on the back and takes his drink over to the table by the staircase that leads to the bedroom, where a stack of blueprints sit, waiting to be worked on.

 

About ten minutes later, Tony is pulled away from his work by the feeling of lips on the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “Hi,” he says, and Loki drapes his arms over Tony’s shoulders. “I have a hypothesis,” Loki tells him.

“Do you, now?”

“Mm hm,” Loki sings, detaching himself from Tony just long enough to vault over the back of the red couch, “Do you remember when I told you that some of my seidr still burns within you?”

“Yeah,” Tony replies, only half-listening as he works, and having learned to multitask while Loki goes on tangents. “Well,” Loki continues, “What I’m thinking is that not only did I transfer some of my magic, but also a fraction of my soul.”

 

Tony whips his head around, blueprints forgotten. “I beg your pardon?”

Loki raises his hands to calm Tony as he attempts to clarify. “Necromancy is a dangerous, often outlawed practice, and most of the time it goes very, very wrong. The very existence of both caster and victim can be snuffed from the world, leaving nothing behind. There are few recorded instances where the good outweighs the bad. I thought - well, more _hoped_ \-  we had been lucky and made it out relatively unscathed, but clearly that is not the case. It is possible that when I manipulated your essence to believe it was still living, I accidentally broke away a part of it and switched it for a part of mine.” Loki breaks off momentarily. “Are you following?”

Tony stares at him blankly. “You’ve got to know I’m not.”

Loki laughs slightly at his boyfriend’s confusion and springs off the couch. “I’m borrowing your canvas,” he announces with a flourish of his hand. “My what?” Tony says. “Loki, what-oh, nevermind then,” he grunts, as Loki disappears momentarily. Tony rolls his eyes and hunches over the glass table again, squinting at the tiny measurements neatly printed alongside the sketches of a proposed aircraft. They’re his notes, though the writing is almost unrecognizable because almost every example of Tony’s writing that exists looks like it was scrawled by a three year old who got into his parent’s coffee and is hyped up on enough caffeine to stun an elephant.

It’s a miracle he can get anything done at all, seeing as most times he can’t decipher his own writing.

 

Loki reappears with a loud crash - not caused by him, but rather the entire glass whiteboard he’s dragged up from one of the labs and dumped right in the middle of Tony’s living room. _Ah,_ Tony realizes, _that “canvas”._ The whiteboard is also, the mechanic notices with a barely contained laugh, filled with Bruce’s neat, winding handwriting. Tony doesn’t imagine his friend will be all that thrilled at his work going missing. As a precaution, Tony stands up and snaps a quick photo on his phone before Loki takes a eraser to the glass, effectively destroying the carefully arranged notes documenting chemical properties in new medicinal goods and their effect on biological mutations of the future. (Or something; Loki brought the whiteboard in and the text is on the other side so Tony’s trying to read it backwards.)

“You do know I’ve got one of those up here, right?” Tony asks drily as he returns to his seat, stowing his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. Loki blinks, glancing at Tony, then the whiteboard, then down at the blue dry erase marker in his hand. “...No, I did not,” he says dully. “I can take this back, if you-”

“Nope!” Tony interrupts. “No. Leave it. It’s fine. Don’t go teleporting all over the place again, because I guarantee somebody will notice.”

“If you’re sure,” Loki sighs. “May I continue?”

Tony flicks his wrist in a “Sure, go ahead” sort of way and leans back into the cushions of the couch. Loki upcaps the marker and scrawls a humanoid figure onto the glass. “Imagine this is a person,” he begins. “He or she has what is commonly referred to as a soul.” The mage adds a little flame inside the chest of the drawing. “We do not feel the presence of this soul until death. It is simply a part of us, like any other organ in our bodies. But it is so much more than that - it holds everything that makes a person who they are. Memories, personality traits, abilities...sort of like that thing you use, so you do not lose your documents on your computers.”

“You mean a hard drive?” Tony offers. Loki snaps his fingers. “Yes, a hard drive. Imagine your soul is like a hard drive. Even if your brain doesn’t remember something, it is stored within your soul. There is so much I could tell you about the concept of having a soul, but frankly that would take too long, so I’ll keep it short. That day on the battlefield, when you...died, I used a form of necromancy to communicate with your soul. Metaphorically speaking, of course. In simple terms, I convinced it that you were still alive, even though your heart and brain had stopped working. Your soul, again, in a purely metaphorical sense, panicked because according to my input you were alive, but not breathing, and it kickstarted your body again. In order for this to work, I had to reach your soul with my seidr. This process is a lot more complex than it sounds, and in short, part of my soul was wrenched from my body to make up for what my seidr accidentally absorbed from yours. Simply put, I have a part of you inside me, and vice versa.”

 

From the couch, Tony fails to hold in a guffaw. Loki glances at him, confused and a little worried at how Tony suddenly appears to be choking. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Tony coughs, “Sorry. It’s just the way you phrased that.”

Loki pauses for a second, thinking, then scrunches his face up in an embarrassed laugh. “Oh, my. That was a terrible way to put that.”

“No kidding. I mean, not that I would oppose to having a part of you inside me-”

“Tony, no.”

“-And vice versa-”

“I hate you.”

“-But I don’t think that’s what you were going for. Not in this context, anyways.”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes, Anthony, I question how i put up with you.”

“You and me both, Blue.”

Loki exhales, exasperated but trying his best not to show it. “ANYWAY. Back to the matter at hand. Please.”

Tony flicks his wrist, signalling for Loki to continue. The mage narrows his eyes at him before turning back to the whiteboard and doodling another little figure next to the first. He waves a hand and the figures appear to come to life. The tiny flames in their scrawled out chests flicker like actual fire. “So, assuming you have a part of my soul intertwined with yours and I have a part of your soul intertwined with mine, it is indisputable that we have some sort of bond. Your soul is still very much your soul. It did not stop being connected to you when it transferred over into my body.”

The ink figures on the whiteboard walk to opposite sides of the board and stand still.

“It will still register pain, so when harm comes to your physical body…” Loki takes the marker and strikes one of the ink people with it, causing the other one on the other side to seize up in mocked pain. “...The part of your soul within me will feel it, but because I am its host, I will also feel the pain. And, you know, vice versa.”

Loki waves his hand and the two figures walk back to the middle of the board. “Now, originally this only happened when we were apart. I can’t actually explain why that is, not yet, at least, but my best guess is that the conscious part of our souls used it as a sort of warning. However, this changed. And your comment about our love making it stronger got me thinking - what if it did?”

He nudges the two ink people together and they link hands. Loki draws a little heart above their heads. “Now that we’re together once again, our souls - the parts within each other - can feel their original hosts close again. Therefore, the bond becomes stronger. And, I can only imagine it will get even more powerful should we become more, ah, _intimate._ I don’t believe there is a way to reverse this strange bond, but perhaps there is a way to finetune it to our advantage.”

 

On the board, the two ink figures share a kiss. Tony raises an eyebrow and Loki flushes, and rubs them away with the eraser.

 

“So basically what you’re saying is we’ve got a real life soul mate bond,” Tony remarks. Loki’s posture slumps slightly as he takes Tony’s comment in.

“I suppose we do,” he muses.

“Nice,” Tony says. “Always wanted to see what those are like.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Tony shrugs his shoulders. “You’re not surprised because you know me. Oh, also, when you said “more intimate”, were you-”

“Implying we could strengthen this bond by sleeping together? Yes.”

“You can say fuck, I won’t judge.”

“I didn’t want to be crude.”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, story of your life, right?”

Loki glares at his boyfriend. Tony waggles his eyebrows provocatively, a quirky grin plastered across his face.

 

In typical Loki fashion, Loki chucks the marker he’s still holding at Tony.

 

He’s smiling too, though, because he’s not really annoyed. Just amused.

 

***

 

_Text Message_

_4:38 PM_

 

_hey bruce, sorry if this was important, but my dumbass friend erased your notes to show me something_

 

_Text Message_

_4:38 PM_

 

_Attachment: 1 Image_

 

_Text Message_

_4:38 PM_

 

_took a picture just in case. sorry again. :/_

 

_Text Message_

_4:40 PM_

_From: Sci Bro_

 

_You’ve got friends?_

 

_Text Message_

_4:41 PM_

 

_fuck off, banner_

 

_Text Message_

_4:42 PM_

_From: Sci Bro_

 

_Ha. Don’t worry about the notes, I was half asleep when I wrote them. Thanks for telling me, though._

 

_Text Message_

_4:42 PM_

 

_ok great thanks for not being pissed_

 

_Text Message_

_4:43 PM_

_From: Sci Bro_

 

_No problem. What did your friend need the whiteboard for?_

 

_Text Message_

_4:43 PM_

 

_classified._

 

_Text Message_

_4:44 PM_

_From: Sci Bro_

 

_What's that supposed to mean?_

 

_Text Message_

_4:44 PM_

 

_;)_

 

_Text Message_

_4:44 PM_

_From: Sci Bro_

 

_Okay nevermind, I don't think I want to know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That text conversation is deadass me and my best friend
> 
> Loki's little taunt in Norwegian means, when roughly translated into English, "Never, it's more fun to watch you struggle".


	26. Lucy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hosts a party. Loki gets fed up with hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the second to last (if not last) shitpost/super fluffy chapter. That's right bitches, it's almost plotline time. 
> 
> And, wait for it, it's going to be a relatively angst-free segment of plotline. Thank me later.

There is a pair of eyeballs in the punchbowl. Not real ones, mind you, but very, very realistic ones that cause Loki to do a bit of a double take as he ladles a sample into a glass. “From what I can remember, All Hallow’s Eve was a solemn affair,” Loki comments. “The last one I experienced was years ago, and I do believe everybody was scared out of their mind that  _ de djevel  _ was going to steal their souls while they slept.” He takes a sip of the bright pink liquid, screwing up his features as the odd mix of sweet and sour hits his tongue. 

“Well, times have changed since you descended down upon Earth to scare the shit out of a bunch of vikings,” Tony replies. He’s standing atop one of the cobweb-adorned tables, stringing up a cord of skull-shaped fairy lights. “So I’ve gathered,” Loki says lightly. “Do watch out, love, you are getting  _ dangerously  _ close to falling off of that table.” 

Tony, having completed his mission of getting the lights to stay - with half a roll of duct tape -  hops off the table and lands, somewhat ungracefully, back on the floor. “Alright, how does it look?” 

He’s referring to the decorations he and Loki have spent the last week putting up - all for the party Tony is hosting tonight, one that Loki is going to be skipping, thank you very much, because he’s not going to be found out at a childish gathering of people in ridiculous costumes. “Well, it certainly has…” Loki brandishes around the hand not occupied by his glass, searching for the right word. “...Character?”

“Dickhead,” Tony grouses. Loki grins into the cartoony snake-shaped glass Tony had excitedly given him. (“I found it and thought of you! Look, it captures your bitchface  _ so well _ !”)

“Fool,” Loki counters. 

“Take that back.”

“No. What time are the guests arriving?”

Tony checks his watch. “Well, it’s five right now, and the invite said to come at six, so that gives us an hour, give or take a few minutes.”

Loki delicately sets his cup down. The bright orange tablecloth covering the buffet table muffles the sound of the glass hitting the hard surface. “I should probably be leaving, then. I would hate for somebody to arrive early and catch sight of me.” The mage starts walking to the elevator as Tony visibly droops. “You’re sure you couldn’t stick around? Have a little fun with everybody else?”

“No, my love,” Loki chides. “I am trying to stay under the radar. Call me when everybody leaves, and we can have a bit of Hallow’s Eve fun on our own, yes?” 

“Yeah? What kind of “fun” do you have in mind?”

“Well, you’ll just have to wait and see,” Loki purrs, moving in dangerously close to Tony. He tilts Tony’s chin up with a finger and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’d hate to ruin the surprise.”

“You are,” Tony says matter-of-factly, “The worst tease I have ever met. Myself included.”

Loki responds with a frankly insultingly dirty smirk and a deliberate slip of the hand beneath Tony’s belt, settling on the bare skin of his hip. The contact sends a shiver up Tony’s spine and he sucks in a breath. Loki kisses him again, this time a little slower, a little deeper. “See you later, min kjære,” he says once he pulls away, a mocking inflection woven into his smooth tone.

“Asshole,” Tony mutters as Loki saunters to the elevator, a smug spring to his stride. 

 

***

 

At six o’clock, the elevators are working nonstop to bring guests up to the party deck. Halloween parties are always the most fun to host, especially this year - for one thing, it’s the first party in Avengers Tower, and Tony’s super cool magic boyfriend helped with the decorating, meaning there’s little bits of Asgardian magic intertwined with the mundane and cheesy Earth decor. Like the candles that have no wick - they’re just floating flames. Or the hyper realistic bat silhouettes that flutter across the ceiling. Tony’s personal favourite is the ghosts - eerie, life-sized spectres that drift across the dance floor, staring blankly at nothing with empty eyes. (They’re a little  _ too _ realistic, and Tony couldn’t get a straight answer out of Loki as to whether or not they were fake, or if he had summoned actual dead people to Tony’s Halloween party.) There’s other stuff, too, lesser tricks that Loki thought might liven things up, so to speak. But they’re all subtle enough that nobody will question them. 

 

Tony navigates through the crowds of costumed people, stopping momentarily to chat or pose for a quick photo with some of the guests. It’s not even nine o’clock yet and half the crowd is already drunk - and if they’re not  _ drunk  _ drunk yet, then they’re tipsy. Tony has already counted three couples who were definitely  _ not _ couples walking in making out in obscure parts of the party deck. (Plus two other couples who apparently thought “fuck it” and just stuck their tongues in each other’s mouths right there on the dance floor.) 

 

He joins Rhodey at the bar, waving a hand for the bartender to bring him another drink. Rhodey’s dressed in a dead simple (hah) zombie costume. He’s splattered fake blood all over a tattered dress shirt and jeans, and that’s about it. “You’ve really outdone yourself this year, Tones,” he says. “Got jumpscared by one of those damn ghosts not even ten minutes ago.”

Tony grins. Loki would be pleased to hear that. “Well, I had help this year. Got a friend who’s real good at shit like this.”

Rhodey snorts. “Y’know, I’m not even surprised. Nice costume, by the way. Although I did think you’d maybe be going for the ‘sexy vampire thing.” He tugs at the brooch in the center of Tony’s cravat. Tony glowers at him and smacks his hand away. “I  _ did, _ ” he sniffs. “It’s sexy because  _ I’m _ wearing it.”

“Uh huh.” Rhodey takes a sip from his drink. “Anyways, you feeling okay? Because it’s been over an hour and I haven’t seen you taking one of the sexy cats up to your floors yet.” 

“Can I not enjoy my own party?” Tony protests. 

“Isn’t that  _ how  _ you enjoy your parties?”

Rhodey gets a swift kick to the shin from Tony’s pair of heavy leather boots. “Ouch! Damn, Tones.”

“Fuck off,” Tony grunts. “And I’m feeling fine, thank you. I, uh.” He drops his voice to a whisper to prevent anyone from hearing him. “I met someone, Rhodes. Someone real special. We’re, well.  _ Dating. _ But you’ve got to keep it a secret,” he adds quickly, “Because as of right now, you’re the only person aside from myself, JARVIS, and the person I’m with that knows.”

Rhodey sputters into his drink. “Shit, Tony! That’s awesome! Do I know ‘em?”

Tony chews on the inside of his cheek as he cautiously glances around. “Uh, yeah, actually. You remember Lucy? From the One Step gala?”

“No way. You two are  _ together _ ?”

Tony smiles. “Yep. Officially together for about a month now.”

“How does it feel?” Rhodey presses. “It’s gotta be weird, after Pepper…”

“Nah, not really,” Tony says, shrugging. “I dunno, I guess it just feels...right. Lucy...she’s good for me, I think. I...well. I love her.” 

Rhodey - damn him - wipes a fake tear from his eye. “You’re all grown up,” he sobs. “Look at you. Tony Stark, in love. What’s next? Will it start raining cats and dogs? Is the world ending? Should I get my affairs in order?”

Tony socks his friend in the arm. “Shut up,” he gripes, but he’s smiling, so any seriousness he meant to convey is lost. 

 

“Hey, Tony!” Chirps a voice from behind the pair, turning their attention away from their conversation. Tony turns around to see none other than Jane Foster, dressed as the little fairy from that one Disney movie - something Bell? Whatever her name is, Jane’s wearing a short green dress with a pair of clear wings that flutter ever so slightly with her movements. “Jane!” Tony exclaims, setting his drink down in order to draw his friend in for a hug. (His hat smacks her in the face as he does so.)

“Christ, it’s been  _ ages,  _ how’re you doing? How’s Darcy and Ian?”

Jane grins. “They’re both doing great, actually! They’re here, somewhere, probably stuffing themselves at the snacks table. Can’t  _ wait  _ to deal with that. And me, well.” She shrugs. “I’m okay, y’know? Had a rough couple months, with the whole alien invasion thing…”

“Hah, yeah,” Tony chuckles, avoiding eye contact. 

Jane’s smile falters as she realizes what she just reminded Tony of. “Tony,” she begins, and her fingers twist nervously in one loose lock of brown hair. “I’m sorry about-”   
“Don’t,” Tony cuts her off. “I’m fine. Really. That’s something we don’t need to get into at a party.”

“Right,” Jane agrees. “Sorry.”

They share a moment of silence where the memory of Loki’s death flashes behind their eyes - the silence of the alien terrain, a flash of rusted metal, slick, hot blood painting the dull grey sky crimson. For Jane, it’s traumatic to have witnessed both the brother of her boyfriend and lover of a close friend be murdered in front of her so gruesomely. For Tony, though he knows Loki is safe and well, the memory he shares with Loki feels like his own, and thinking about it reminds him of the pain and shock of it all. 

 

Rhodey, who had been with Tony long enough to know when he’s uncomfortable, saves the day by stepping in. “Tony, care to introduce us?”

Rhodey’s voice brings Tony back to the present. “Oh! Uh, Jane, this is Colonel James Rhodes, my closest friend and a royal pain in the ass. Rhodey, this is Doctor Jane Foster. She’s brilliant, one of the world’s top astrophysicists. She’s sort of a legend.”   
“Hello,” Jane greets, accepting Rhodey’s outstretched hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Rhodey replies. “Have you worked with Tony before? You two seem well acquainted.”

Jane laughs. “Oh, Tony needed my help a couple months back. We grew quite close. Similar interests, and all that. Speaking of which,” she adds suddenly, glancing behind her. “I  _ had  _ brought a date, but he seems to have wandered off.”

_ Shit.  _

_ Shit.  _

_ Is she talking about Thor? _

“Oh?” Tony asks. His voice goes up by three pitches. He covers it with a cough. 

Jane grins. “I almost forgot. Couple days ago, I was out in the field, and guess who stopped in for a visit?”

“James Hetfield?” Tony jokes, meekly, hoping that his silent panicking is well hidden. 

“Obviously  _ not, _ ” laughs Jane, with a playful tap to Tony’s arm. “ _ Thor. _ ”

_ FUCK.  _

“Oh,” says Tony. “That’s, uh. That’s cool. Didn’t know he was here.”

Jane nudges him. “No need to be so worried,” she reassures him. “He’ll be glad to see you! C’mon, let’s go find him.”

 

***

 

There’s a man standing outside Avengers Tower. As the partygoers filter into the tower, he stands alone, leaning against a light post and looking sour. As the sun sets and costumed people start to take to the streets, heading off to their assorted Halloween festivities, the blond man shrinks further into his coat and glares up at the big, glowing  _ A  _ at the top of the tower.  _ I should be up there,  _ he thinks bitterly.  _ But no. No, I must hide away, once again, so as to not draw attention to myself. Nothing has changed. Not really.  _

“‘Scuse me,” mumbles a pedestrian, pushing past the man, in a hurry to get from some place old to some place new. The man, who is, of course, Loki, shoots the pedestrian a dirty look before returning to his brooding. 

 

For the first hour or so, Loki hadn’t minded wandering around New York by himself. It helped him get to know his new city from the view of a full-time citizen, and not a psychotic dictator hellbent on subjugating the human race. 

It was fine, until Loki took a wrong turn and got so lost he had to figure out how to use the navigational application on his phone to lead him back to the tower. 

 

Asgard wasn’t that complex, and Asgard had actual  _ mazes.  _

 

So, six wrong turns and four near-death experiences with cars later, Loki has found himself back outside Avengers Tower. His home, which, for the moment, is forbidden from him. 

_ Okay,  _ he thinks,  _ but what’s actually  _ stopping  _ you from going in? Tony wanted you to be there, remember?  _

A beat.  _ If you go in there,”  _ argues the other half of his brain,  _ you will certainly be caught.  _

Loki worries the buttons of his jacket with his fingers.  _ Hey, dipshit,  _ says Tony’s voice in his head.  _ You’re the god of lies. Couldn’t you just lie yourself around this?  _

The revelation hits Loki and he can’t believe that he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Momentarily ducking into an alleyway, Loki sucks in a breath and, with a slight smile, shifts into something a little less conspicuous. 

 

***

 

Tony has never felt so uncomfortable. Here he is, awkwardly conversing with the brother of his boyfriend, who thinks that said boyfriend is dead and Tony is mourning him. Thor is trying his best not to bring it up, but it’s a hard topic to avoid seeing as the last time they spoke, it was because...well, because of that topic. And then, of course, as if things couldn’t get worse,  _ the rest of the Avengers decided to join in.  _ But he can’t duck away, because they’re actively engaging in conversation with him and by God, this must be what hell feels like. He never thought he’d be yearning for the end of a party - but it’s hard to have a good time when most of the conversations he’s been having feel more like interrogations than anything else. He’s tuning out the latest conversation - this one being about last week's mishap with the backfiring hot water heater - and staring out at the crowded deck when lo and behold, he catches sight of a perfect distraction. 

 

For him, that is. 

 

It takes a solid minute for Tony’s mind to wrap around what he’s seeing - a woman, tall in stature and holding herself like royalty, is strutting through the crowd with ease. She’s wearing a slinky red dress and black corset under a billowing black cape, with high-heeled boots that click across the confetti-strewn floor. Her hair is short, cut at her jawline, and black, and a shock to look at because  _ her hair should not be short.  _

“Excuse me for a mo,” Tony croaks to his friends, clumsily brandishing his drink glass. They hardly glance at him as he hurries off, towards the unexpected visitor. 

She virtually lights up when she catches sight of him - her bright green eyes sparkle like stars and her painted-black lips spread into a familiar grin. “Anthony!” Loki sings. She runs towards him with her arms outstretched and crashes straight into him. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Tony demands. Loki flutters her eyelashes. “Couldn’t stay away. Outside was  _ so  _ boring. I’d much rather be in here.” She taps him on the nose with a slender finger. “With you.”

“Loki,” Tony hisses under his breath, “Thor is here.”

 

All amusement drains from Loki’s face, leaving her paler than a ghost. “Thor is what now?”

“Trust me, I was just as shocked as you,” Tony grits out. He glances over his shoulder at the circle of Avengers, who have since moved to the couches. Jane is snuggled up next to Thor. “C’mon, let’s talk in private.”

Tony grabs Loki’s hand and drags her into the alcohol cupboard behind the bar. They stand awkwardly pressed against each other in the dark, cramped room, the only light coming from underneath the door and it’s not doing a great job illuminating things, seeing as it’s the strobe lights so everything is only visible during multicoloured flashes. 

“Okay,” Tony exhales. “We’re fine.”

“Yes,” Loki agrees. “Nobody will ever wonder why you and I suddenly ran into a cupboard together.” 

“I’ve done some pretty interesting things in cupboards,” Tony objects. He can’t see her, but he’s pretty sure Loki just rolled her eyes. “We could try some,” he suggests. 

“ _ Tony. _ ”

“Sorry,” Tony says quickly before Loki stomps on his foot or something. 

“Why is Thor here?” Loki urges. 

“He’s with Jane,” Tony says. “I guess he just showed up a few days ago. Maybe he missed her? I dunno. But we can’t let him see you.”

Loki snorts out a laugh. “Please, Tony. Thor wouldn’t recognize me in this form if I was in full armour. Besides, I’m in a Midgardian costume. I’ll be fine.”

Tony lets himself relax a bit. “Okay. Thank god. Hey, uh,” he scratches the back of his head, almost nervously. “Why’d you come back? You were pretty set on leaving.”

In the dark, Loki shrugs. “I was, but like I said earlier, I got bored. And I realized that hiding away is only going to make things worse. I want to be open. Make myself known.” She pauses. “Though, I think I’ll keep this form on in public. For both your sake and mine.”

“Good idea,” Tony agrees. 

 

The door handle rattles. The couple, in the light of the pink strobe lights, snap matching looks of horror at each other. In a split second decision, Loki grabs Tony by the shoulders and slams him against the back wall - a little bit too aggressively, if Tony’s honest - and crushes their lips together in a fiery kiss. 

It comes as a shock to Tony, both from having the breath knocked out of him and also kissing this version of Loki. (Still an insanely good kisser.) Her hands are roaming up and down his chest, toying with his cravat before resting on either side of his face. Her body is flush against his and Tony isn’t, for the first time in a long time, sure what to do with  _ his  _ hands, so he just settles them on her hips and hopes she doesn’t mind. 

 

The door swings open and in steps Milo, the young bartender, who catches sight of the couple, and rolls his eyes.  _ Damn it,  _ he thinks.  _ I don’t get paid enough for this.  _

The bartender pulls a box of Schnapps off the shelf and hobbles back out, shutting the door behind him and praying the two strangers making out in his storage area don’t do anything worse than kiss. 

 

Once they’re sure the door is closed, Loki pulls back. “Are you alright?” she asks. “That was harder than I meant.”

“I’m great,” Tony wheezes. “Please do that more often.” 

Loki smirks at him. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She spins much too neatly for someone in two inch heels and strides out of the closet, leaving Tony to pull at his uncomfortably tight pants and fix himself up a bit before following. 

 

***

 

Loki begins to regret returning sometime in between leaving the closet and arriving at the couches. “Hey,” Tony says. He taps Clint on the back of the head to let him know he’s there, and squeezes past the couch, gently holding Loki’s hand. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

The Avengers turn their interest to Tony. There’s Bruce, wearing an old lab coat and sporting some very frizzy hair, and Rhodey, reclining casually across the length of one of the maroon couches. Clint and Natasha are sitting next to each other, like always. The archer is wearing what appears to be Nat’s catsuit - and she’s got on his Hawkeye gear. Steve’s got on an embarrassingly tight sailor’s uniform - and looks remarkably unbothered by it. 

Then Loki’s eyes fall on Thor, and she forces the rising bile back down. Her brother is surveying her with mild interest, but there’s no recognition in his eyes. She is a stranger to him, and Loki isn’t sure whether she feels relieved or disappointed.

“Lucy!” Rhodey exclaims, tearing her away from the distraction that is her brother. “Hey, girl!”

“Hello, Colonel Rhodes,” Loki says politely. “It’s good to see you again.”

 

Loki feels Tony starting to tense up next to her. She gives his hand a comforting squeeze and he returns it. “Guys, I’d like you to meet Lucy,” he says. “We’re together. Romantically. She’s my girlfriend.”

The silence that follows - metaphorically speaking, because the party is still raging all around them - could probably rival a funeral. 

“Your what,” Clint finally chokes out. 

“Girlfriend,” Tony repeats, loudly, just in case Clint actually didn’t hear him because his hearing aids are broken again.

“What the fuck,” The archer says. Hearing aids are fine, then.

“Oh, come off it, Barton,” Tony complains. “It’s not like I grew an extra head or some shit.”

“You sort of did,” Bruce muses. Tony points at him without looking. “Not helping.”

“Nice to meet you, Lucy,” Steve says pleasantly, so far being the only person with a normal reaction. Natasha is just squinting at the two of them, greatly unnerving them both. Thor and Jane - who Loki hadn’t originally seen - both look shocked, a little more so than everybody else, but the expression quickly dissolves as Thor heaves himself off the couch and strides over to stand in front of Loki. “Hello, my lady,” he introduces himself. “I am pleased to see Stark has found someone to make him happy.”

Loki doesn’t miss the look he shares with Tony. “You must be Thor,” she says. “Tony’s told me so much about you. And this must be Doctor Foster,” she adds, peering around Thor. Jane looks startled as she’s addressed. “Oh! Er, yes, that’s me!”

Loki clasps her hands together. “Wow! It’s an honour to meet you, Doctor. An honour to meet all of you at last, actually,” she says, adding a laugh for good measure. “But you, Doctor. I have read all of your papers and  _ wow,  _ you are… _ incredible. _ ”

Jane blushes. “Thank you,” she laughs. “I love when people are familiar with my work?”

“Familiar? Doctor, I live and  _ breathe  _ your work. It’s simply brilliant!”

Jane ducks her head, growing even more red. “It’s alright.” 

Loki beams and grabs Tony’s hand again. “Well, I’m gonna run off to the bar real quick! I need another drink to put up with this piece of work.” She kisses Tony on the cheek, leaving a faint smudge of black lipstick. 

And then she’s off, happily sashaying over to the bar, 

“She’s great,” Tony manages to say, only barely stopping himself from laughing at the stunned expressions of his colleagues. “Really great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Well, late Halloween anyways. I got absolutely swamped trying to finish my costume so I - eep!- couldn't get this done when I wanted to. 
> 
> Anyways. Return of Lady Loki because I love my witchy wife.


	27. Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling down into normal life, Loki and Tony explore the wonders of being in a happy, relatively open relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter like four times. Not even kidding. The first draft just was????? Super angsty for no reason?????? I mean, I didn't scrap it, it'll be popping up eventually, but it just did NOT fit the mood of the plot right now. Thanks, teenage hormones. 
> 
>  
> 
> Quick warning because there is a sex scene in this chapter - nothing graphic, but it's there. Scroll to the first "***" if you don't want to read it. :)

The holidays pass much too quickly. Christmas is a riot; filled with drunken laughter, stupid presents bought as gag gifts that somehow find their way into every room of the tower, and bad singing echoes through the garland-adorned halls as celebrations ensue. Loki, disguised as new alter-ego Lucy, cuddles up with Tony on a couch on Christmas Eve, wearing a fluffy red christmas onesie as they all sip eggnog - which Loki discovers he hates, and describes as “demon’s piss” to a howling-with-laughter Tony - and while neither Loki nor his adoptive brother (who is still on Earth, for reasons unknown and unexplained) have no idea what Christmas even _is,_ they still have fun messing around with their new teammates. Thor tells stories from Asgard as they eat together, one big, awkward, superhuman family, and while Thor describes, in animated detail, the disastrous festivities of one ill-fated summer solstice, Loki whispers the _actual_ details to Tony every time Thor exaggerates something.

 

New Year’s Eve feels like a dream - the countdown is loud and everybody is either wasted or getting there as snow drifts down from the clouds in large clumps, shrouding the whole city in a blanket of white that dampens any noise that cuts through the freezing January air. When the clock hits twelve, the occupants of the party floor in Avenger Tower cheer and Tony kisses Loki (Lucy) in front of everybody for the first time. It’s also the night somebody snaps pictures of a drunken Clint kissing Steve and Natasha cracking a bottle open with her phone, both of which are framed on the wall alongside various other photos of the team doing stupid things. When the festivities died down, Tony and Loki retreated to the peace of their shared penthouse and let the lights of New York wash over them as they wrap their arms around each other’s waists and watched the world pass them by. One year gone, and many more to come.

 

“I’ve just realized something,” announces Tony, two days after New Year’s, when he’s lying next to Loki in their bed, tapping away at some mindless game on his phone, one where a tiny alien jumps from platform to platform and shoots balls at scribbly monsters. Loki raises his head from his journal, raising a black eyebrow at his boyfriend to show he’s listening but not bothering to put down his quill.

“Our anniversary passed like, three months ago and we didn’t even realize.”

The little alien sprite in Tony’s game makes a sad little _whoop whoop whoop_ noise as he misses a platform and sends the sprite plunging to its twentieth death in a row.

“Our anniversary,” Loki repeats. He sets down his quill, wedging it in the spine of his journal.

“Yeah, you know,” Tony continues. “The day you crash landed on my beach.”

Loki falls back onto his pillow and stares at the ceiling overhead. A loose curl falls in front of his face. “Norns, that can’t have been a year ago _already_.”

“Definitely doesn’t feel like it, Blue,” Tony agrees, leaning over to brush the lock out of Loki’s eyes. “Sort of all a blur, huh?”

“Indeed,” Loki replies. “It feels like just yesterday, but also like eight years ago.”

“Yeah, time is meaningless,” Tony grunts. “Christ. One year. I feel like I should get you something. Like a nice knife. Or a book on how not to sound like a dude in a Shakespeare play.”

Tony receives a deft smack to the stomach with a book for that last comment. “Ouch,” he frets. Loki glowers at him without malice as he magics away the excess ink on the quill and sets both it and the black journal on his bedside table. “Very funny,” he sniffs. “Although I admit a nice knife would be...well, nice.”

He grins and leans over to brush a kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Although being here with you is the best gift I could ask for.”

Tony pretends the soft, vaguely joking words don’t make his heart do a little somersault. He plays it off with a cheesy grin and a tug on the collar of Loki’s sleepwear. “Aw, shucks, Blue,” he says in a phony southern accent, “You make me all woozy.”

Loki snorts, his nose scrunching up all adorable like and making Tony’s traitor of a heart do yet another somersault. “That was awful,” he says between little hiccuped laughs. “Please never try and do an accent again.”

“Does it annoy you?” Tony asks, switching up his voice in order to mock Loki’s posh accent and earning a withering glare for his trouble. “Oh, shut up,” Loki sighs. He rolls onto his stomach and rests his chin on one hand. Tony brings one hand up to pull his boyfriend down into a kiss. Loki folds his arms on Tony’s chest and gazes at him with a sickly sweet look in his multi colored eyes when they pull away. “I love you,” he says, and it’s the way he says it, how _casual_ he says it, that really strikes Tony because despite everything they’ve been through, every rough turn and tearful goodbye, they won and they’re _here,_ together, and it’s not even a big thing anymore, it’s just...life. Over a year has passed since Loki fell out of the sky and so much has changed, but everything that used to be new then is normal now.

“I love you too,” Tony replies, as he always does. Loki drags himself forward so he’s practically lying on Tony as he kisses him again, and again, soft kisses gradually turning to deeper, passionate ones as Tony lets his hands slide up Loki’s silken gold shirt in order to explore the whipcord muscles rippling beneath his boyfriend’s pale skin. Loki sits up, moving his legs so he’s straddling Tony’s hips as he unbuttons the front of his pyjama shirt and discards it to the side. Loki stretches again, lithe as ever, before diving right back down to capture Tony’s lips in another deep kiss. “You alright with this?” He murmurs, voice husky, in Tony’s ear. His tone sends shivers down Tony’s spine. _God, yes,_ he thinks. “Never been more alright with anything,” he says out loud, and Loki grins the grin that drives Tony wild while his hands fly to Tony’s shirt, helping him to pull it off over his head. It joins Loki’s shirt on the floor.

 

Tony honestly wishes he could say that their first time was as elegant and erotic as sex was in films; but then again, very few things in his relationship with Loki were elegant and almost never went as expected. The night is filled with breathy gasps and hungry kisses, sure, but there’s also a fair share of laughing and apologies - Tony’s fingers get caught in Loki’s curly hair and the sensual running-of-fingers-through-hair quickly turns to disentangling-fingers-from-hair-to-avoid-further-pain. At some point, just when things are getting _really_ steamy and everything in the world around them has disappeared into background noise, they end up on the floor, wheezing with laughter at the sudden drop off the bed and both are unable to do anything but laugh for a good couple minutes, and even when they recover for the most part, Loki is still shaking with silent laughter when Tony tries to kiss him again.

 

But it’s good. Real good. They’re laying in bed, afterwards, everything but the thin top sheet kicked off the bed, and Tony is laying on his side with his head on Loki’s chest, all domestic like, and Loki is gently stroking Tony’s hair in thought. “Waiting to do that for a long time,” he murmurs, a fog of sex and sleep slurring his words together. “Tell me about it,” Tony mumbles, equally as sedated, feeling the warm hands of drowsiness grasping at him. “Worth the wait, though.”

Loki presses a kiss into Tony’s untidy hair. “Certainly,” he agrees.

Tony yawns and burrows deeper against Loki’s side. Loki slides his arm down so it’s resting just above Tony’s waist. “You want something to eat?” Tony mumbles into his side. “I could order pizza.”

“That,” says Loki, “Is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

***

 

“Do you ever think about how _strange_ it is that we’re together?” Loki asks. They’re in a bookstore, for the sixth time that week, and Loki is reading the back of some obscure philosophy novel that makes Tony’s eyes glaze over just looking at it. “Yeah,” Tony admits. “All the time. I mean, how I managed to woo a space prince is beyond me.”

“No, not like that,” Loki sighs. “I mean...how every decision we’ve made led us here. Led us to be together. Like that night on the beach? You could have called an ambulance instead of taking me in, and this-” he points at the two of them with a gloved hand. “-Wouldn’t exist.”

“You mean the butterfly effect?”

Loki replaces the book back on the shelf and walks slowly down the aisle, running his fingers across the tops of the books as he searches for another to catch his interests. “It depends. What is this butterfly effect you speak of?”

Tony glances up to the ceiling, trying to recall the details. “I feel like Bruce might know more about this than me, but from what I can remember it’s basically the idea that small actions have larger consequences further down the road. Like, and here’s where the name of the whole thing comes from, if a butterfly flapped its wings in Brazil, would it cause a tornado in Texas?”

Loki tilts his head. “Yes, I think that is exactly what I mean. An interesting theory, isn’t it? The idea that there are so many other possible outcomes in a simple situation.” He pauses, and his voice goes a little bit softer. “And yet so impossibly chilling.”

Tony watches his boyfriend tuck his hands into his pockets. “Hey,” he says, coming up and wrapping an arm loosely around Loki’s waist. “Don’t stress out about it. All that shit is in the past, right? Who cares about what _could_ have happened, and just focus on what _did._ Sure, it was a rocky road, and both of us could’ve done with less bumps and scrapes, but at least it’s all over now.”

Loki hides his smile in his scarf. “Okay. If I start getting like that again, don’t let me? Distract me.”

“Will do, Blue,” Tony says, grinning to himself at the unintentional rhyme. Loki rolls his eyes at how pleased Tony is with himself and ducks into the next aisle.

 

“This one looks interesting,” he says, once Tony has realized Loki had gone to a different aisle and caught up with him. The book in Loki’s hand is deep red in colour, and emblazoned with gold runes. A spellbook, from the looks of it. “Really?” Tony says. “Don’t you have enough of those?”

Loki shrugs. “Yes, but this isn’t a _spell_ book, Tony. This is a _rune_ book. There’s a difference.  And it’s not in my language. I think it may be interesting to read.”

“Alright, sure,” Tony says. His eyes alight on the other books and knick knacks in the area. “Uh, Lokes?” He says, scanning the shelves filled with titles like _Witchcraft: A Handbook of Magic Spells and Potions_ and _Occult Practices and Beliefs: A Biblical Examination from A to Z._

“Mm?” Loki replies, already flipping through the book he picked up.

“Did you just drag us into the occult section?”

Loki glances up just long enough to look around. “Oh. Yes, I did. I must admit, it is thrilling to see so many Midgardians taking an interest in the magic arts. I mean, half of these books are utter nonsense and the likelihood of actually being able to produce a spell with them is doubtful, but still.” He runs a thumb over the cover of the book he’s holding - the only one, apparently, legitimate enough to catch his eye. “It’s nice that they try.”

 

Loki places his book in the shopping bag supplied by the store - one already weighed down with four other books Loki decided were worth his time. Tony doesn’t imagine he’ll get much talking out of his boyfriend for the next few hours - when Loki starts reading, he tends to get so into it, somebody could set him on fire and he wouldn’t notice. (Loki is adamant he isn’t like that, but Tony knows for a fact it’s true because one time, Tony set _himself_ on fire while trying to repair Dum-E in their bedroom and Loki didn’t even look up from his novel.)

 

Tony awkwardly examines the rack of bookmarks while Loki pays at the till and strikes up conversation with the pretty young cashier about one of the books he’s buying. She’s a kid, really, fifteen at the most, and dressed sort of like the protagonist in a YA fantasy novel - leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and high heeled combat boots that add at least an inch and a half to her height. She’s got a sort of “punk lesbian” vibe going on, what with the clothes and her shock of bright blue hair. Sort of the last person you’d expect to see in a bookstore wearing an apron that has “my weekend is all booked” emblazoned across it, next to a cartoony picture of a book.

While she’s excitedly discussing Loki’s book choices, her fingers are worrying a green leaf pendant that’s hanging around her neck on a delicate silver chain. A nervous tick, by the look of it.

Tony spins the bookmark rack around, growing more and more bored by the minute. When two more minutes pass and Loki is still discussing true meaning behind H.P. Lovecraft’s _Call of Cthulhu,_ a novel Tony vaguely remembers Loki poring over a couple days before, Tony pulls out his phone and starts playing Tetris. At the five minute mark - Loki and the cashier girl are now talking about the _Lord of the Rings_ franchise - Tony begins to consider leaving Loki behind. At the ten minute mark, Loki and the cashier girl are debating on whether or not Gandalf could have called on the eagles to fly them to Mordor, and Tony is halfway through one of the little satire comic books in the trays next to the bookmark rack. Twelve minutes pass, then fifteen, and Tony is silently losing his mind at his uncharacteristically social boyfriend and his newfound friend, the blue-haired cashier girl. Tony’s just thankful there’s nobody else waiting in line - the last thing he needs is for S.H.I.E.L.D. to find out Loki’s back because he got into a fight with somebody in the line at a bookstore because they told him to hurry up or some shit.

 

“Ho _ly shit,_ ” Tony finally exclaims, having been standing behind Loki for the past twenty minutes and on the verge of bashing his head into a wall. “Loki. Buddy. Can we go. Please. I’m _dying_ over here.”

Both Loki and the cashier glance over at him and Loki blinks, as though only just remembering Tony’s there with him. “Yeah, hi, I still exist,” Tony says with a wave. “And I’m starving. Not trying to be rude, but if I don’t eat I’m gonna start throwing things.”

“Norns, Tony, I am _so_ sorry,” Loki says with a nervous little chuckle woven into his voice. “I got carried away talking to Sam here.”

The cashier - Sam - leans over the counter and waves at Tony. “Hi! Sorry for stealing your friend!”

She squints at Tony, cocking her head as she sees him fully for the first time. _Great, here it comes,_ Tony thinks, bracing for the inevitable _ohmygodyou’reironmanholyshit._  

“I know you,” Sam realizes, and her blue eyes go wide. _Aaaand there it is! Right on cue!_ “Dude,” Sam says, and her voice is trembling. “You’re Tony Stark. You’re like...my idol. I...wow. Hello! Um. Yeah. Hi.”

 

Okay. Actually. The kid’s cute. Tony will give her that. She’s nice. And blissfully unproblematic, compared to most other teenagers who recognize him. “Nice to meet you, kiddo,” he says, offering a hand out for her to shake. Sam the cashier looks like she’s about to faint - but she takes his hand anyway and gives it a nervous shake. “Sorry for making you wait,” she says once she drops his hand. Tony smiles. “Y’know what? Don’t worry about it. This guy right here,” he says, giving Loki a nudge, “Loves his books. _Constantly_ talking about them. And me, well.” He shrugs. “I haven’t got the faintest idea what he’s saying. Hopefully talking to you about Cthulhu will shut him up for a bit.”

Sam beams at him and leans on the counter. “Ready to go?” Loki says to Tony as he pulls his plastic bag off the counter. “Thought I made that clear,” Tony responds. Loki loops his arm through Tony’s and leads him off, waving a goodbye to Sam, who smiles to herself and watches them leave. “Neat,” she says, as the pair disappear through the front doors.

 

“Nice to see you making friends,” Tony jokes, as Loki throws his purchases into the back of the car and slides into the front seat. “Nice to see you’re patient,” the mage replies without missing a beat. Tony closes the driver’s side door with a _thud_ that shakes the whole car. “Oh, fuck off,” Tony grunts. The car rumbles to life and Loki, out of habit, wraps his fingers around the handle above the window. “Are you still freaked out by driving?” Tony says as they back out of the parking stall. Loki glances over at him, a thin veil of annoyance poorly disguising an expression of pure panic. “You may say I’m not fond of it,” he says through gritted teeth. “Especially because you drive like a Berserker.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Tony replies.

“It is most certainly not,” says Loki.

 

***

 

A plastic dummy head flies through the air and hits the glass wall with a hollow _clang._ It rolls to a stop against a pyramid of lifting weights and prompts a quirked eyebrow from Tony, leaning against an unmoving but powered on treadmill, changing his music. “You tryin’ to get my attention?” He calls across the empty gym, at Loki, who is standing next to a headless training mannequin with his arms crossed. “Spar with me,” Loki calls back. “I’m bored.”

Tony removes his earbuds and wanders over to the lonesome dummy head. He picks it up, examining a dent from where Loki must have kicked it clean off its body’s shoulders. “Stop breaking these,” he complains.

“I will if you spar with me,” Loki responds. Tony grunts and pads over to the mats, running shoes silent on the concrete floor. Loki raises his hands and Tony automatically tosses him the white plastic head. Loki catches it with ease and crosses over to the headless mannequin. “Is that a yes?” He asks as he twists the head back into place.

“Yeah,” Tony replies. He kicks off his shoes and nudges them off the blue mats, next to Loki’s leather boots that are way too fancy for exercise wear. “No weapons?”

“No weapons,” Loki confirms, while walking over to meet Tony in the middle of the mats. His hands are wrapped in soft, pliant strips of reinforced leather - a hard plate of Asgardian ceramic is shaped to his knuckles to prevent breakage while driving punches. Tony realizes upon seeing them that he’s forgotten his in his gym bag - conveniently located in the locker rooms. “Hold on,” he starts, about to tell Loki he has to run and grab them.

Loki tosses him a small bundle. Tony fumbles it but manages to keep a hold on the bundle, and snorts in amusement as he recognizes the parcel as his boxing gloves. “Stop forgetting those,” Loki tells him. Tony shoots him a grin as he pulls the gloves on.

 

They step apart, assuming their positions. “Winner chooses what we eat tonight?” Tony suggests. “I can agree to that,” Loki replies, darting forwards and throwing a punch at Tony’s head. Tony blocks it and retaliates with a swift punch to Loki’s side. “You like curry, right?” he says, knowing full well Loki hates spicy foods. Loki dodges another hit and lands one of his own to Tony’s ribs. “Of course, dear. Almost as much as you love fish,” Loki croons as they circle each other. “Asshole,” Tony mutters. Loki waggles his eyebrows in response before lunging again. Tony realizes too late that the punch to his side was a fake-out and before he has time to register it, he’s on his back, staring up at Loki’s flushed face as his boyfriend sits triumphantly atop of him. “Could be better positions,” he says decidedly. Loki cocks his head just before Tony grabs his shoulders. Loki’s eyes go wide as Tony flips him onto his back, reversing their positions so Tony is straddling Loki. “I like this one much better. Don’t you?”

Loki tries to twist his wrists free of Tony’s grasp. “Too unrealistic,” Loki hums. Tony feigns offense and tightens his grip on Loki’s wrists. “I think I could do a pretty great job up here,” he taunts. “Scratch that, I _know_ I would.”  
“We’re not fucking on the mats,” Loki chides. “That would be unsanitary.”

 

Loki knees Tony - rather forcefully - in the stomach, knocking him back and also, knocking the breath out of him. Loki tumbles back in an elegant shoulder roll, skidding to a halt a few feet away, graceful and perfect. His hair is falling out of its ponytail and his chest is heaving.

 

 _He’s so fucking gorgeous,_ Tony thinks, and then there’s a knife at his throat and a god sitting on him again.

Tony lets his head fall against the mat. “We said no weapons.”

“Not using it,” Loki pants. “Just claiming my victory.”

“Cheater,” Tony grunts. “You’re a cheater.”

“I am not,” Loki says. “Now, do you surrender?”

“Fine,” Tony grumbles. “I accept my fate.”

Loki drives the fist holding his knife up into the air in victory. “I have slain the mighty Man of Iron,” he crows, free hand bunching up Tony’s sweat-soaked shirt, “Bow before me and I may spare your life.”

“Not dead yet,” Tony says, miffed. “Now let me up, you dick.”

 

***

 

The smell of sweat and engine oil fills the air as Led Zeppelin plays loudly from a pair of speakers. It’s humid in the workshop, despite all the fans going, but the heat is a nice change from the frigidness of the outdoors. “Okay, you see that pipe there? By the tire?” Tony shouts, half-drowned out by the music. “Yeah, that one. Use the long, skinny brush there - the blue one - and clean it out.”

Loki, underneath a weathered old 1970 Plymouth Hemi Superbird, pokes around in his toolbox until he finds what he’s looking for. “I feel like there are better ways to teach me this,” he says, muffled by the underside of the car.

“This is your solo project,” Tony tells him. “You were doing great at the smaller projects, so I have complete faith in you for this bigger, more expensive project. Expensive and hard to replace. Did you know that only a hundred and thirty five of those cars were produced? Took me a year to track one down that was still in working order.”

“Well, I am honoured that you’re letting me work on it,” Loki grunts. “I trust that if I mess up, you will admit to yourself that perhaps you should not have let me. I will take no responsibility.”

Tony shrugs it off. “The Superbird’s cool, yeah, but the real breadwinner is the ‘69 Chevrolet Corvette. Only two others like her. Been my pet project for a few years now; fixing her up, making her pretty, adding some of my own touches. I’ll take you out for a spin in her when the snow clears up.”

 

Loki pushes himself out from under the car. His goggles are pushing his sweat-slicked hair up into a ridiculous looking half-quiff and he’s got a smear of grease across his nose from where he wiped his face. He gestures pointedly at Tony with a dirty wrench. “None of those words are real.”

“Says the guy who spouts shit like “hvorfor smørbrød” and expects me to understand what he’s saying.”

Loki stares at Tony with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” says Tony.

“You just asked me “Why sandwich”. Why sandwich what?”

Tony tosses a screw at Loki. It misses, as Loki cackles and slides back under the car on the red creeper. “You know what I mean,” Tony snaps. A laugh drifts out from under the Superbird. “I’m not sure I do, _kjaere_.”

Tony throws his hands up in the air - for dramatic effect, seeing as Loki is staring at the bottom of a car and can’t see what he’s doing. “See? For all I know you could have just called me a lizard or something?”

“Why a lizard?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” Tony mutters.

Loki laughs again. “If I wanted to call you a lizard, I would have said _Øgle_.”

“That sounded disgusting.”

“Thank you, it’s my native tongue.”

“Mm hm.”

 

A beat.

 

“So what did you call me?” Tony asks. He folds his arms and settles back on his workbench. “I’ve heard you use it a lot, and I’m beginning to think you’re just calling me a dick.”

The laugh that comes from under the car is gentler this time. “ _Kjaere_ means dear, or loved one.”

“Oh,” Tony says softly. He hates to admit it but his face flushes too, just a little bit.

Loki chuckles. “Not what you expected?”

“No,” Tony admits. “I was pretty sure you were calling me a dick.”

 

Loki pushes out from under the car again, this time fully, and he stands up. “Pass me that cloth,” he says to Tony. “I’m done for now.”

Tony reaches over and hooks a relatively clean rag with his finger and flings it at Loki, who catches it without needing to look. “Thank you,” he says, wiping his black-stained hands off and leaving smudges of dark grease all other the light blue cloth. “I’m going to go wash up. Back in a minute.” He kisses Tony lightly on the cheek, his goggles pressing into Tony’s temple, and then saunters off.

Tony drums his hands on the metal table he’s leaning on and then goes to kick the creeper back under the Superbird so nobody trips on it. He turns the music off, too, which fills the air with silence, a weird change from the hours of loud drumming and guitar.

 

It’s good that he turned it off right then, because otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the soft clicking of high heels walking over from the elevator doors. “Tony?” Pepper says.

Tony almost drops a wrench on his foot. “Heyyy, Peps,” he says, strangled, turning around much too quickly to be inconspicuous and drawing a concerned eyebrow raise from Pepper.

Pepper, who didn’t know about Loki. Pepper, who wouldn’t be fooled by Lucy, because she’d already met her at the gala all those months ago. Pepper, who would kick Tony’s ass if she found out he’d been lying about Loki’s death. (And, let’s be real, she’d kick Loki’s ass, too, for faking his own death.)

“You alright?” Pepper asks.

“Totally cool,” replies Tony. (Spoiler alert: he’s very, very far from cool.)

“Okay,” Pepper says, clearly not buying it. “I heard you talking to someone. Is there anybody else here?”

“No,” Tony says, again, much too quickly to be taken seriously. “Just JARVIS. Hey, JARVIS!”

“ _Hello, sir,”_ says JARVIS. Tony points at the ceiling. “See?”

Pepper’s expression remains unconvinced. “If you say so,” she says slowly.

 _Don’t come back,_ Tony thinks, hoping Loki can sense his distress and take the hint to stay away. _You’ll be found out._

“You, uh.” Tony clears his throat and gestures to the bag Pepper has slung over one shoulder. “Need help with something?”

“Hm?” Pepper says. “Oh! Right. Yeah, actually.” She reaches into the bag and pulls out a mangled StarkPhone. “I sort of...well. I dropped it down a flight of stairs,” she confesses, awkwardly. Tony takes it from her, turning the broken bit of glass and wiring over. It’s completely dead - can’t be fixed. “Nice one, Peps,” he snorts. “Don’t worry, I’ll get all the files over into a new device and have it back to you asap. Promise I won’t peek,” he says, with a wink. Pepper exhales. “Thank you, thank you, _thank you._ I couldn’t _believe_ what I’d done, it was so embarrassing, Tony, I was at work and people were staring at me as I had to awkwardly bend down and pick up this mess from the stairs. While holding a massive stack of paperwork! Oh, god, it was awful.”

Tony grins as he sets the shattered phone down on a table. “I’d like to say everyone makes mistakes, but I have never once dropped a phone down a set of stairs.”

“Yeah, well.” Pepper shifts the bag on her shoulder. “Shut up."  
Tony shoots her a cheeky smile.

 

“Hey, Tony, could we go to that sushi place for lunch? I’m really craving squid, for some reason.”

Tony freezes at the voice. Loki’s back - and clearly not paying attention. Pepper tenses up, too - she recognized Loki’s voice and she is staring over Tony’s shoulder as Loki rounds the corner. “Tony?” Loki says, walking into the main workshop, casually, before freezing in his tracks as he catches sight of Pepper. She holds his gaze, obviously struggling to keep a calm demeanor, an attempt mimicked by Loki. “Sure, Lokes,” Tony says weakly, feeling all the secrecy he’d had with Loki come crashing down around them faster than Loki had come crashing to Earth, “Sushi sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about cars


	28. Truth Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper confronts the couple about Loki. Loki discovers something someone close to him has been hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because the longer version would have made 0 sense if paired with this part.
> 
> When I publish these it might look like I have my shit together but I really fuckin' don't, I'm a total disaster

Sometimes, just sometimes, every once in a while, Pepper wishes that she could just take a breather and let somebody else deal with her problems. Right now is one of those moments. Right now, she’s standing in front of her former boss/ex/current friend and his supposedly dead boyfriend, and what she wouldn’t do for the ability to just slip away and leave this looming mess to hang over someone else. She could, of course, just not acknowledge it because let’s be honest, it’s _Loki_ and Loki tended to have a habit of making people think he had died. She _could_ just leave. Yet at the same time, she’s mad. Mad the because _of course_ Loki is still alive and _of course_ this is how she finds out. Pepper is mad, and although she wants to just vanish into thin air, the responsible thing to do would be to find out exactly what the hell is happening.

 

That morning had started off perfectly normal. Hell, it was a _good morning._ She’d gotten a good sleep and didn’t wake up feeling like a zombie, and she’d had enough time to stop for breakfast before heading into work. Sure, she might have dropped her phone down a flight of stairs but it was _one_ bad thing that had happened in an otherwise good day. She’d gotten all her tasks done, so she could get a head start on projects for the upcoming weeks, and she’d even gotten to have a chat with Natasha and Clint before coming to find Tony.

And of course, Tony has gone and, once again, taken her entire day and flipped it on its head. Seeing Loki isn’t a _bad_ thing, Loki’s her friend and she mourned when she heard he died, but for _God’s sake, can there not be one normal day?_ Just _one?_

 

Oh, who is she kidding. She’s Pepper Potts, ex-girlfriend of Tony Stark and CEO of Stark Industries. Of course she couldn’t have a normal day.

 

If looks could kill, Loki and Tony would be little more than piles of ash on the ground. They’re both sort of frozen in spot, locked in place by Pepper’s burning gaze. Loki, who prides himself on being able to read anybody’s emotion, has absolutely no idea as to what Pepper is currently feeling - there’s quite a lot to take in. Loki shifts his feet and attempts to slink back out of the room, apparently using the “If I can’t see you, you can’t see me” logic of a three year old child whose mom has just caught him painting on the walls.

“Don’t you dare,” says Pepper. Loki freezes right where he is, “deer in the headlights” look plastered across his features. “Peps, listen,” Tony begins, stepping forward. Pepper cuts him off with a severe flick of a hand. “Don’t want to hear it, Tony.”

Pepper drops the bag that was on her shoulder onto a table top. “So. Loki isn’t dead.”

“I’m not,” Loki admits weakly.

 

Pepper narrows her eyes at him. Her arms are crossed and although Tony has been the subject of Pepper’s wrath many a time in the past, this time feels different. Like she might actually snap this time and, well. Snap his neck. “How long?”

“What?” says Tony and Loki, in unison. Pepper glances up at the ceiling with a sort of _Lord help me_ look. “How long has he been here? How long has he been...you know, _not dead._ ”

Loki and Tony glance at each other. It’s a bit of a toss up. On one hand, it’s Pepper, and she was bound to find out eventually, so maybe it would be smart to just get it over with and explain everything. On the other hand, accidents can happen and there’s always a possibility, however small, that she would slip up and tell someone about them. Their two options dangle in the air, waiting for them to choose one or the other. Loki gives Tony a slight jerk of his chin. _Tell her._

“Weeellll,” Tony says, dragging out the word as long as he can without making it weird, “Uh. About...four months? Give or take?”

 

“So what you’re saying is,” Pepper says slowly, “He’s been here this whole time? And nobody’s noticed?”

There’s silence as Loki and Tony exchange another look. “Uh,” says Tony. Loki clears his throat and pointedly looks anywhere but at Pepper. “Boys,” Pepper snaps.

“Yeah,” Tony finally manages to say. “Basically.”

“Well,” interjects Loki, “Technically…”

“...Okay, _Technically_ the rest of the team knows.”

Pepper’s eyebrows come very close to completely disappearing into her hair. “The rest of the team knows and I’m only finding out _now_?”

Tony winces. Loki suddenly becomes very interested in a speck of grease on his hand. “No,” Tony says quickly, attempting to save the rapidly dissolving remnants of Pepper’s trust, “They don’t know it’s Loki. They think Loki is actually _Lucy_ and that Lucy is my super hot girlfriend I met at a convention last year.”

“You may remember her from the gala,” Loki chimes in. “When you first met me. I was wearing a green dress?”

Pepper’s fiery gaze turns to Loki and he flinches - actually _flinches_ \- as she quirks her head. “When I first met you,” she says, “You were half naked and almost broke your neck on Tony’s stairs.”

 

Right.

 

Loki had been hoping she didn’t remember that.

 

“Not then,” he says, face very pink, “At the One Step gala. I was Tony’s date.”

“I remember,” Pepper says coolly. “But I don’t care about your persona’s backstory right now, Loki. I want to know why you decided to keep this from me.”

Neither Tony nor Loki can find a good reason. Tony realizes, when he thinks about it, that of the few people he could trust with the news of Loki being alive, Pepper would be right at the top of the list. Loki realizes that he might just die here today, because Pepper is going to kill him. Or he might just keel over from lack of oxygen because he doesn’t think he’s taken a breath since he turned the corner and saw Pepper. That’s really all he’s thinking.

“Okay,” Tony begins. “So we should’ve told you. But we didn’t know who to trust! So in all fairness, we’re not in the wrong here. We had a reason.”

“That’s the most bullshit reason I’ve ever heard,” Pepper says. Tony probably should’ve expected that response. “You know you can always trust me, Tony. I’ve put up with you for long enough, you should _know_ that.”

“Sorry,” Tony says weakly. Pepper pinches the bridge of her nose between two perfectly manicured nails. “You know, I’m not even mad that Loki’s alive. Actually, I’m thrilled! Because Loki is my friend, too, Tony. I’m mad that you kept it a secret for _four months._ ”

Loki decides now would be a good time to swoop in and save Tony from Pepper’s wrath. “Hiding it was my request, actually,” he says. “I would hate to be found out so soon after escaping.”

 

Pepper lets out a deep sigh. Loki and Tony glance at each other as her shoulders relax and the hellfire that had been burning in her eyes subsides. “Get over here,” she says. “Let me look at you.”

Loki stays right where he is.

“Loki,” Pepper tells him, “I am not going to kill you. Now get your ass over here.”

 

Loki shoves his hands in the pockets of his unfairly good looking fleece-and-leather pants and awkwardly side-steps around Tony so that he can stand in front of Pepper. For someone significantly shorter than him, Pepper does a damn good job of eying him up and down enough to make Loki break eye contact and look anywhere else in the room. That and feel the overwhelming urge to just straight up leap out the window and hope the thirty-five story drop doesn’t kill/knock out/severely damage him. Again. “Well,” Pepper says, finally, after a ridiculously long time of just standing there. And staring. “You don’t look like you died.”

“Yes, that is one of the positives,” Loki replies. Pepper makes a noncommittal noise low in her throat and reaches a hand out to pull the loose hair tie off of Loki’s falling-apart ponytail. His hair poofs out around his face, having been tied back for most of the day. “And you appear to be using less hair product,” Pepper comments. “That’s a relief. You probably could have burned for days if somebody lit a match near you.”

 

Loki, a little hurt and also somewhat ashamed of his previous phase of using copious amounts of hair gel to slick his hair down, touches a loose curl that’s hanging over his shoulder.

 

Pepper gives the chevron patterned sleeves of Loki’s shirt a tug before planting her hands on his shoulders and pulling him in for a hug. “I am so, so glad that you’re alright,” she whispers to him, “But if you pull a stunt like this again, I will not hesitate to kick your ass _so hard_ you’ll go back in time. Capiche?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Loki murmurs. Pepper beams as she pulls away. “Good. God, you two are going to be the death of me, I swear it.”

“That does seem likely,” Loki admits. Pepper smiles. “So you two are a proper couple now?”

“I mean, I _think_ we are,” Tony says. Loki shoots him a look Pepper identifies as a fed up _why on Earth did I fall for you_ look. “Yes,” Loki confirms. “We managed to sort out our problems and now...well. Now we’re happy.”

Pepper nods along. “I have a feeling that you two are going to be the world’s most _problematic_ couple. Approximately how much shit am I going to have to come up with in order to avoid every single newspaper having “ _TONY STARK SCREWS WORLD’S MOST WANTED”_ plastered across the front page?”

 

“As of right now, not much,” Tony tells hr, just as a suddenly very troubled Loki blurts out “What do you mean, “most wanted”? Am I still...facing judgement?”

Tony’s relief at Pepper not deciding to flay them with her pen vapourizes almost the moment Loki finishes his question. His heart flies into his throat. _Shit,_ he thinks. _He wasn’t supposed to know that._ Pepper’s lips part ever so slightly as she remembers Loki wasn’t on Earth when his sentence was passed by both the United Nations and S.H.I.E.L.D. “You, uh...” she says, clearing her throat and fixing the cuffs of her blouse, “You don’t know?”

Slowly, Loki shakes his head.

Pepper chews on her lip, desperately trying to find a gentle way to tell him. “When you were still on Asgard, the U.N. - sort of the world government - gathered after the New York attack in order to figure out what to do in the off chance something like it happened again. They didn’t release much to the public but what they did tell us...well. To put it simply, if you were ever found on Earth again, S.H.I.E.L.D. has orders to, and I quote, “Exterminate the threat.” By whatever means necessary. Meaning…”

“...If I am found, they will kill me,” Loki finishes hollowly. His gaze has become unfocused, his posture that of someone in defeat. Someone who is scared.

Pepper can’t bear to look at the distraught expression on her friend’s face. She turns her head slightly to look at Tony, and is shocked to see him looking at her with something akin to fury in his eyes. It doesn’t last long, however, because as Loki stumbles away from the two of them, apparently reeling in shock, Tony wrenches his glare away from Pepper and turns instead to Loki, the glint in his eyes growing worried. “I had hoped,” Loki says, softly, “That my punishment on Asgard would be enough. I-I thought that maybe...just _maybe_ I could stay here without worry...what a fool I was.” He barks out a cold, empty laugh. “I killed hundreds of innocents. How could I be forgiven?”

Tony lays a gentle hand on his boyfriend’s back. “Hey. Lokes. It’s okay. We’ve been doing alright so far, haven’t we?”

Loki abruptly goes very still. His back straightens and his eyebrows screw together in thought. He’s silent for a good long while before suddenly and violently pushing Tony away from him. “Did you know?” He asks, and the first time it’s a genuine question, if a little angry. Tony averts his eyes. “Lokes, that’s not-”

“Anthony,” Loki demands, and this time rage is shaking his voice and his eyes are burning. “Did you _know._ ”

 

_Tony had been repairing the Mark Seven, sitting alone in his workshop, the first day back in Malibu since New York and Loki’s departure. The house was cold and lonely and not hearing the sounds of somebody else living there had just deepened the wound of Loki’s absence. So Tony turned on the television, not really caring what channel it was on, just wanting something to drown out the silence. He’d only been half-listening to the news anchors talk about stocks and a robbery downtown, but his full attention quickly snapped to the TV as the salt-and-pepper haired news anchor started talking about the U.N. meeting to discuss the recent attack. Helmet abandoned, Tony cranked the volume._

“In a statement released this morning,” _the anchor said,_ “The United Nations have condemned the actions of Loki Odinson, who five weeks ago launched a vicious attack on Manhattan, resulting in the deaths of over four hundred civilians and injuring thousands. Approximately ninety-eight are still unaccounted for. A spokesperson for the U.N. said that due to the severity of the attack, there was no question as to what was to be done about the war criminal Loki. Although he has since been taken back to his home planet to face justice, the U.N. has stated that should he ever be seen on Earth again, military personnel are authorized to kill on sight.” _The anchor pauses for a moment to fix his stack of papers before continuing._ “According to the order, there will be no interrogation, as Loki Odinson’s actions speak for themselves - he is a deranged and highly dangerous threat who seeks out chaos wherever he can find it. There is no need to ask him _why_ he attacked - in this case, the fairest sentence is to put him down.”

 _The newsman continues but whatever he says flies over Tony’s head. Until that moment, he had been holding onto hope that Loki would come back. But now, it didn’t look like he could, even if he tried._  

 

Snap back to the present. Loki is staring at Tony expectantly, that fire in his eyes burning like a supernova, and Tony can’t bring himself to say anything. He just shuts his eyes and swallows his words, hoping, _praying_ Loki will forgive him.

Tony’s silence is answer enough for Loki. The god growls low in his throat and at his side, his fingers curl into fists. “You knew,” he hisses. “You _knew_ and you didn’t tell me. You _knew_ and you still let me go outside, never once saying a _word_ about how it could be dangerous! What if I had gotten caught? What if I was executed and you knew it could have been prevented if you had just _told me_?”

Tony flinches. He’s woken up in a cold sweat enough times, the thought of Loki being shot point blank in the head by some faceless agent still taunting him. “Lokes, I’m sorry,” he pleads. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

 

“Who are _you_ to decide what I can and cannot know?” Loki spits. “You are my lover, Tony, _not_ my keeper. You have no right - _no right_ \- to hide something of this proportion from me. If anybody saw me, we could _both_ be in danger.”

He’s fuming, now, and pacing, hands curling in and out of fists as he tries to get a hold on himself. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything, Tony, because everyone must have their secrets, the Norns know _I_ have secrets that you will never know, but _this_? This is not something you can just hold back! This is life or death here.”

Loki stops pacing and draws a hand across his face. “I should have been more careful,” he says, mainly to himself. “No, I _must_ be more careful. I have to be more careful, because even though I’m out of the dungeons, I am _still_ a prisoner, and you, Tony Stark, _you_ are my warden.”

 

And then he’s gone.

 

Tony stares at the spot he had just stood, shaken by Loki’s snarled accusations. “Tony?” Pepper speaks up from behind him. Tony starts a bit; he’d forgotten she was still here. “Listen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you hadn’t-”

“Pepper?” Tony interrupts. His tone is steely and it takes Pepper by surprise. “You should go.”

“Tony-”

“Pepper.” Tony turns his head just enough to regard Pepper with a stone-cold expression. “Go. I’ll fix your phone but _get out._ ”

Pepper doesn’t try and argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst town angst town angsttownangsttownangsttown
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I should really stop letting my IRL angst get mixed up with my fictional works. It just makes things really really sad.


	29. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki & Tony deal with the after effects of their argument. Tony has an awkward encounter with Thor, and learns something about Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (belated) Holidays! I thought hey, this chapter is angsty, maybe I should just wait until after the New Year and all that jazz to upload this. 
> 
> Also! This chapter is special for two reasons! One: It marks the last chapter that takes place in Phase One of the MCU. It's been a wild ride and I didn't think I would get this far, but I am SUPER excited to rewrite Phase Two with these two dorks. 
> 
> Two: This is the first chapter to have been beta read! A special thank you to my IRL sister, who read THE ENTIRE FIC just so she could start proofreading for me. She's the best. Enjoy!

_“Are you sure we’ll be safe here?”_

 

_“Of course we’ll be safe here, my love. It’s warded. I made sure of that.”_

 

_“...It’s beautiful.”_

 

_“Isn’t it? Beautiful and safe. The perfect place to raise our children.”_

 

_The woman, who wears a simple lilac-coloured dress and has long, honey blonde hair swept up into a knot atop her head, beams and glances down at her swollen belly. “We’re going to have children,” she says, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. “We’re going to have little ones.”_

_Her husband, a tall, black-haired man in green robes, kisses his wife’s temple. “And they will be brilliant, my love. With your kindness and my abilities, these little ones will be so, so strong.”_

_His wife grunts. “With your abilities, they are going to be little terrors,” she tells him. Her husband grins. “Oh, I have no doubts about that.”_

_He guides his pregnant wife to a bench carved from an old tree. She settles down on it, letting the cool autumn air stir her neat hair and ruffle the skirt of her dress. “Won’t you miss Asgard?” She asks softly. “Yes,” her husband admits, gathering up his robes so he can sit next to her. “I will. I’ll miss it daily. But I will have my visitations, so I won’t miss it all the time. And I have you. And you are everything I could ever need.”_

_“...Won’t the kids yearn for Asgard? When they learn who they could have been there?”_

_The raven-haired husband smiles at his wife. “I cannot tell you what our unborn children will think. I can, however, tell you what_ I _think. I think this place is perfect.” He sweeps his arms open, gesturing to the cottage and the massive oak tree in the center of the clearing. “We can make this_ our _paradise._ Our _Asgard. Nothing will ever harm us here.”_

 

***

 

How does one apologize for hiding the fact that the person they love has a death sentence hanging over their head?

 

Not well, that’s how.

 

When Loki is mad, he doesn’t yell or glower or act out in aggression like anybody else might. His anger is cold and silent, simply just a form of the silent treatment that somehow makes anybody in a fifty foot radius suddenly want to be literally anywhere else.

He didn’t leave the tower and Tony isn’t sure if it’s because he’s scared, or just being petty. Loki eats on the landing pad outside, in the snow, because hell, it doesn’t bother him, so why not take the opportunity to enjoy the view? During the nights following the incident, even though Loki still sleeps in the same bed as Tony, he faces the wall and refuses to let Tony touch him. The one time Tony tried to put his arm around Loki’s waist, he got a sharp elbow in the ribs.

 

Does Tony know he fucked up? Yes. Does he regret keeping it a secret from Loki? Now, yes. Before Loki found out? No. Not really. He didn’t feel bad about hiding it because then Loki wouldn’t be scared. When he showed up in Tony’s living room with a gaping hole in his chest and a pile of new angst, the last thing Tony wanted to do was cause him more stress. So he didn’t tell Loki. He promised himself he would tell him when Loki recovered, which then became after Loki had settled in, and it snowballed until l it spilled out and now everything was sort of terrible. “I’m sorry,” Tony will say, every night, and Loki ignores him. “I love you,” Tony will say, and every night it gets a little sadder as Loki says nothing in response.

  


Yeah. Tony is his own worst enemy.

  


***

 

Tony gets back from patrol covered in snow and wishing he had thought to install wipers on the lenses of his helmet. The bumbling landing he somehow managed to stick was probably the messiest one since his very first flight - it’s a miracle he didn’t go skidding off the side of the building. Since the Rose Hill incident, he’s been working on adding environmentally adaptable technology to his newer suits, but that doesn’t mean they’re completely snowproof - the interior heating system warms _him_ up, but does jack shit to clear the snow off the _exterior_ of the suit. _Also,_ he reminds himself, _add a canopy to the landing deck so you don’t slide off. Dumbass._ He hadn’t really been thinking of the snow when the tower had been built - although to be fair, he hadn’t planned on living in the tower year-round. And with snow melting during daytime and then freezing again at night, the landing pad has sort of become the world’s most precarious ice rink.

 

“That sucked ass,” he declares loudly, to empty air, as he stumbles in from outside, rubbing his arms to warm them up from the biting winter air. “Lokes? You here?”

Loki is, of course, there, but he doesn’t answer. He’s standing outside of their bedroom, leaning on the railing, outlined by a halo of pale golden light pouring in from the windows like some beacon of ethereal beauty. He’s wearing a long, flowing black robe with a high collar and sleeves that are just a little too short. They’re not drab by any means, but compared to the rest of his Asgardian wear, the black robes are practically bare. The only decoration is some slight embroidery barely visible along the neckline. It’s an odd outfit, especially when compared to his casual wear.

“Anthony,” Loki says, almost too quiet to hear. He doesn’t look over at Tony, not even a glance. His gaze is fixated on something across the penthouse, or maybe he’s just lost in thought, because Tony can’t imagine why he would find a wall so interesting.

 

Nonetheless, it’s the first word Loki has spoken to him in four days, and Tony will take it. “Hey,” he says softly. “Did you miss me?”

“No,” Loki says, but it’s not cold, he doesn’t sound like he’s still angry, his tone is more hollow. Artificial. “I barely noticed you had left.”

“Oh,” Tony says, trying very hard not to show how Loki’s comment had hurt him. “Well. That’s okay. I wasn’t going to take patrol this morning, but I woke up and I just, I dunno, _hurt_? Felt like I wanted to run, or something.”

“Sorry,” Loki says, in that same empty voice, “That would be my fault.”

“How?”

One of Loki’s hands, resting lightly on the banister, twitches. “That is...unimportant. Ask no more questions. Please.”

Loki straightens up and his hands fall limply to his sides. “In fact, if you could...I think I would like to be alone today.”

“Oh,” says Tony. “Okay. Sure. I’ll...go hang with the rest of the team, then.”

  


By “rest of the team”, he means Clint and Natasha, as Bruce is probably in the lab or reading somewhere, and Steve is off doing Steve things. Clint has turned on the game system installed on the massive flat screen that takes up most of one of the walls, and he’s in the midst of a very aggressive round of Mario Kart with Natasha. (He’s losing. Badly.)

“Afternoon,” he says as he passes, giving Clint a tap to the back of the head to let him know he’s there in case Clint lost his hearing aids again. “It’s your turn for patrol tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

Clint grunts in response - he _can_ hear Tony then, that’s good - and promptly sends his character careening off the side of the road. “Oh, MOTHER _FUCKER_ !” He shouts, as the little _whomp whomp whomp_ ditty announces he’s fallen to his doom. Tony cackles as Barton fumes over his plastic steering wheel.

“Suck it, Barton,” Natasha croons. She crosses the finish line and throws her remote on the table in victory. Clint flips her off. “I could’ve won that. Easily.”

“Like you won the last round?”

“Fuck _off_ Nat.”

 

Tony leaves the partners to their spat as he wanders over to the bar. To both his shock and dismay, the bar isn’t empty, and none other than the god of thunder himself is sitting on a stool, nursing a glass of oddly dark whisky. “Hey, big guy,” Tony greets him. “Didn’t think you liked mortal alcohol.”

Thor grunts. “This is not mortal,” he responds. “It is a concoction brewed on Asgard.”  
“Cool,” Tony says slowly as he slips behind the bar to grab a tall, crystalline bottle of brandy.

Thor smiles wanly and lifts his glass to his lips. His mind is clearly preoccupied with something else - the usually bright, puppy-like god is subdued and almost...sad? Distressed, maybe?

 

Tony slides onto the barstool next to Thor and drags his glass over. “Wanna be a dear and share with me?”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Thor warns, but pours a bit of his Asgardian liquor into the empty glass anyways. “Cheers,” Tony says, and they drink.

The liquor is bittersweet to the taste, a shock at first, close to the burn of vodka, before sliding smoothly down his throat, and the burn turns to a sweet, almost sugary taste. “What the hell,” Tony coughs after he’s swallowed. “That was...fucking weird. Not bad, just weird.”

Thor laughs - still not as raucous as usual, but a laugh nonetheless. “I’m impressed you could stomach it at all! I shudder to think what Loki introduced you to while he lived here.”

“He never got me drunk,” Tony assures him. “I can do that by myself.”

Thor gives a hearty laugh and downs another swallow of his drink. “Of that I am not surprised!”

They chuckle together and Tony looks down into the amber depths of his glass.

“He loved you, Stark,” Thor says, suddenly a lot softer than he had just been. “My brother.”  
Tony quirks up one side of his mouth. “Yeah?”

“He did,” Thor tells him. “More than he could say. He loved you more than he loved any other - I could see it in the way he spoke of you. In the way he missed you. I will admit I was wary of you at first, because you are arrogant, and from what I have heard do not take lovers for more than one night.”

“Thanks,” Tony deadpans.

“But Loki told me of a different side to you,” Thor continues. His voice is slurring, now, slightly. “He showed me how you laughed, and how you cried. How you cared for him despite his being a stranger.” He claps Tony on the shoulder, harder than he meant to - _hopefully_ harder than he meant to - and nearly knocks Tony onto his ass, right off the stool. “If he had lived, I would have been proud to call you kin.”

Tony steadies himself and tries not to think about what Thor is implying - that he would have given Tony his blessing to marry Loki. “Well,” he chokes out, “That’s good to hear.”

 

“You know,” Thor muses, “When my brother told me he was in love, I thought he must have hit his head.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Thor chuckles, staring down into his glass as he swirls the contents around. “Loki, as a boy, _hated_ interacting with people. Simply _despised_ it. He would whinge and complain each time he was dragged to any sort of social gathering - including formal dinners with the rulers of other realms. Once, on a mission to Alfheim, where our father planned to negotiate Loki’s own tutelage under one of their high priests, Loki, who must have been only four hundred or so, replaced himself with one of his illusions and snuck off to who knows where.”

Tony snorts into his alcohol. That doesn’t surprise him in the slightest - while his Loki is significantly more comfortable with parties and the like, the idea of Loki scuttling off to a dark corner in order to avoid social interaction doesn’t seem too far fetched. “Did he get the tutorship?”

“Oh, of course,” Thor says, with a ghost of a genuine grin. “The high priestess was so impressed with Loki’s structures that she took him under her wing right away.”

Yeah. That’s Loki, alright.

“Still,” Thor continues, backtracking to his original thought, “When he said that he thought he had found love, I believed, originally, that this was another one of his tricks. But it wasn’t. I only wish he had gotten a happy ending in his relationships.”

Tony gives Thor a slightly awkward but well meaning pat on the shoulder. “Well, if there’s an afterlife, he’s with Sigyn, at least,” he says. Thor glances over at him, brows knit tightly together. Tony realizes, as he tips back his glass to get the remaining drops of alcohol, that he’d never actually _told_ Thor he knew about Loki’s family. “Loki told you about Sigyn?” Thor asks, though he doesn’t actually sound shocked. “Er, yeah,” Tony says slowly. He sets his empty glass down on the granite counter and drums his fingers on the sides. “I know about Sigyn. And his kids. Fucked up story.”

“Indeed,” Thor grunts, and pours himself another round.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Thor stares into his drink as though it holds the secrets of the universe and Tony just sort of...sits there. Thoughts wandering. “Okay,” Tony says, “I have to ask.”

Thor grunts.

“What’s up? You’re sort of acting very...un-Thor-y. You okay?”

“No,” Thor says decidedly, after thinking on it. “I am not.”

“You wanna…” Tony searches for the right words. “...Talk...about it?”

Thor shakes his head. “I should not place this burden upon your shoulders.”

“Maybe not,” Tony agrees. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean you _can’t_ dump it on my shoulders.”

Thor snorts into his glass. “You are persistent, Stark. I can see why Loki was so fond of you. Very well.”

Thor exhales deeply through his nose. “I am in mourning, Tony.”  
“For Loki?”

“Partially,” Thor says. “For Loki. And my mother. And today, most of all, for my nephews.”

Okay. Lot to unpack there. First thing - was it the anniversary of Loki’s family being killed? That wouldn’t really make sense, seeing as Sigyn hadn’t been on Thor’s list, and he knew that Thor had absolutely adored his brother’s wife. And second…

“Your mother?” Tony asks.

“The queen,” Thor says, as if Tony hadn’t clued in to the fact that he, a prince, had a queen for a mother. “She was killed. Just days before Loki was.”

Penny in the air.

“Shit,” Tony stammers. “Thor, I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” Thor asks, puzzled. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Fair enough.”

Thor doesn’t say anything about Tony’s hasty answer, instead continuing on his previous train of thought.

“She died bravely...but she is gone nonetheless. I can only hope she is watching over myself and my father in Valhalla.”

“And...your nephews?” Tony presses, feeling a little terrible for being so forward, but also it’s not like Loki is going to tell him and Tony’s pretty sure Loki’s current foul mood and Thor’s are interconnected.

 

“Right,” Thor says. “Today would have been their coming of age.”

 

The penny drops.

 

***

 

_“Da, Narfi is cheating again!”_

_“Da, I am not, Vali just doesn’t know how to use a sword!”_

_Loki, preoccupied with his baby daughter cradled in his arms, glances up at the blue sky in a silent prayer to the Norns. “Narfi, are you playing fair?”_

_“Yes,” the shorter of the twins says. His brother lets out a scoff of disbelief. “Da, he kicked me in the knee!”_

_Loki pads over to his sons. Hel gurgles and waves one of her pudgy fists in the air as she tries to turn herself around. “Narfi, honestly. I guarantee no legendary warrior has ever won victory by kicking his opponent in the knee.”_

_“That we know of,” Narfi argues._

_Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Narfi. Apologize to your brother. Now”_

_Narfi deflates. “Sorry, Vali. I won’t do it again.”_

_“Good,” his brother says, tapping his wooden sword against his thigh. “If you do, you can find somebody else to spar with.”_

 

_Loki smiles at his sons. “You two are doing well. You’ll both be little warriors in no time.”_

_Narfi tries to execute a sword flip - and fails miserably. The boy’s toy sword bounces out of his grasp and he fumbles with it before managing to grab the end of the wooden blade. He flinches, and Loki chuckles. “Well. Maybe a little bit of time.”_

_Narfi sticks his tongue out at his father. “Hey,” Loki warns his son. Narfi flushes. “Sorry, Da,” he mutters, looking downcast for all of three seconds, then perks right up, scolding forgotten, as he remembers what he’d been working on. “Oh! Da! Look what we’ve been working on!”_

_Loki ducks out of the way as Narfi bounds back to the flattened patch of grass he’s been kicking up with his brother, causing baby Hel to let out a wail and drive a surprisingly well-aimed baby punch into Loki’s ribs. “Ah,” Loki grimaces, bouncing his daughter gently to calm her down. (Hel decides that no, she does_ not _like that, and her father receives an angry gurgle and another hit to the chest.)_

 

_“Are you watching?” Narfi shouts, even though his father is two metres away and despite the warbling baby in his arms, still has functioning ears. “Yes,” Loki says, while wrestling one of his amulets from Hel’s grasp. “You have my full attention.”_

_“Promise not to kick me again?” Vali says, drawing back to the edge of the training yard. “Yeah yeah, I promise,” his twin replies hurriedly. “Ready?”_

_Loki manages to pull his amulet out of his daughter’s hand and shoves it down the front of his tunic, where her little hands can’t get it. “Go ahead.”_

 

_Narfi lets out a yell and runs at his brother, striking at his head, and Vali ducks neatly under the incoming wooden blade, gives Narfi a swift elbow to the back, knocking him off balance, and then drives the sword into the dirt right beside his brother’s neck. Narfi glances over at their father, grinning, while Vali wrenches his sword from the soft ground. Loki shifts Hel - now completely asleep - just enough so he can clap his hands. “Good job, boys. Where did you learn that one?”_

_“Uncle Thor taught us!” Narfi chirps, gap-toothed grin widening._

_“Did he now,” Loki says drily. “Did he teach you anything else?”_

_Vali shakes his head. “No, Da. Mum gave him her mean look and he didn’t finish our lesson.”_

Bless you, Sigyn, _Loki thinks, relieved that his idiot brother isn’t teaching his sons how to disembowel or decapitate someone before they’ve even turned one hundred._

 

_\----_

 

_“Da, will I ever be able to come to Asgard with you?”_

_Loki looks down at his son and gives Vali’s hair a little ruffle. He’s neatly braided his long hair back and he scowls at his father as a few strands of blonde hair come loose. “I don’t know, Lesehest_ . _It isn’t safe. Not now, at least. Maybe when you’re older.”_

_“But I’m almost four hundred,” Vali whines. “And I want to see the royal library. Uncle Thor says it’s the biggest in all the nine realms.”_

_Loki chuckles. “Well, that is one thing he’s not exaggerating,” he admits. “The library is very, very impressive. I spent many a day in there as a boy.”_

_“Mum wouldn’t have to know,” Vali weedles._

_“Mum would absolutely find out,” Loki reminds him._

_“That’s true,” Vali mutters. “Mum always finds out.”_

_Loki catches sight of his son’s downcast expression and sighs, stopping in his tracks and kneeling down in front of his son. “Vali. My dear boy. You know how dangerous it would be for me to take you to Asgard when you are this small. I promise you,” Loki says, interrupting Vali’s attempt to complain about being called small, “That for your coming of age, I will take you and your brother to Asgard.”_

_Vali bites his lip. “Okay,” he murmurs. “You promise?”_

_Loki kisses his son’s temple. “I promise. Until then, I will bring you back books from the library, so you can start your own here at home. How does that sound?”_

_Vali smiles. “I like that. What sort of books will you bring me?”_

_“Well,” Loki ponders, beginning to walk again, “You need some more spellbooks; mine are much too advanced. And I think some history books might be in order, too.”_

_“Like the story of Mímir’s well?”_

_“I don’t see why not.”_

_Vali punches the air with his fists. “I love that story! Thank you, Da!”_

_Loki bumps his shoulder against his son’s. “You’re very welcome, Val. Promise to look after your mum?”_

_“Always,” Vali says, with a smile. “I promise I’ll keep her moving and make sure she’s eating, and I’ll look after Jörmi and Hel and keep Narfi out of trouble.”_

_“Glad to hear it,” Loki says. “If anything happens…”_

_“...I’ll call for Heimdall,” Vali says, repeating the same words he says every time his father leaves for his homeworld. “Good,” Loki says. “And I’ll come back right away. I’ll see you in two weeks.”_

_Vali wraps his arms tightly around his father’s middle. “I’ll miss you,” he says into his dad’s cotton robes. Loki rubs his son’s back as he hugs him. “I will miss you too, my sweet boy. Be good. I love you.”_

 

_Vali steps back, fingers twisting on the hilt of his short blade, as his father gives him one last smile before the Bifrost roars to existence, sweeping him back to his other life of luxury._

 

_\----_

  


_Dealing with a six year old girl who could raise the dead was a problem that Loki had never thought he would have to face. Yet there he was, sitting in the garden while his daughter played hide-and-seek with her two older brothers and a decomposing fox corpse she had found in the forest. The fox was, for a dead animal, looking like it was having quite a lot of fun running after the little girl, and it might have actually been cute, had its skin not been hanging on by some thin strands of sinew. “We aren’t going to let her keep that thing, right?” Loki says quietly to his wife. Sigyn sits down on the stone beside him. “She’s named it already,” she responds. Loki winces. “Oh, Norns.”_

_‘Indeed,” Sigyn sighs. “Bein.”_

_“She named it ‘Bones’?”_

_“Of course she did, she’s six.”_

_“Fair enough.”_

 

 _Hel skids to a halt, giggling, in front of her parents. “Have you seen Narfi anywhere?” She chirps. “The point of the game is to find him yourself, is it not?” Loki says, leaning forward to retie the little bow on her smock. “It is,” Hel sighs. “But he’s_ so good _at hiding. And it’s not fair.”_

_“Life isn’t fair, sweetheart,” Loki says, tapping his daughter lightly on the nose. This comment earns him a dirty look from Sigyn, but Hel lets it fly right over her little head and giggles at her dad. “Tell you what,” Loki says, rising from his spot on the cold stone walkway. “I will come help you look.”_

_Hel cheers and grabs her father’s hand. The reanimated fox sitting beside her yaps loudly and runs in circles around Hel’s ankles. Loki screws his nose up in distaste as a pungent smell of rot rises from the thing._

 

_They find Narfi in a chest. (Note that the chest had locked itself and Loki’s genius of a son had gotten stuck. It’s thanks to Bein the rotting fox that they find him.) “Nice going, dummy,” Vali taunts his brother. Narfi scowls at his twin. “Nice going, dummy!” Hel parrots, and Vali pales as Loki snaps his head back to his children. “What did I just hear?”_

_“Nothing!” Narfi and Vali exclaim at the exact same time, not wanting to be lectured on why they can’t be teaching their little sister foul language. (Again.)_

_Loki narrows his eyes, but turns his attention back to the carrots he’s pulling from the soft, moist earth. His three eldest children giggle to themselves and take off to go play another round. The rotting fox stays with Loki, because Bein’s assistance in finding Narfi was, in eleven-year-old boy logic, “cheating”. Loki is not happy with this arrangement. The fox smells. And its dead gaze gives him the creeps. Loki wishes very much Hel had taken the stupid thing with her._

 

Loki opens his eyes to the dim light of the candles he lit on the oak table. The smell of cedar wafts through the air on curls of smoke and Loki wipes the teartracks off his face with his sleeve, leaving shimmering marks of wetness on the silken fabric. His promise to Vali hangs heavy on his tongue, a reminder of what should have been but never was. He had often imagined it, taking his sons to Asgard - taking Narfi to the royal forges and finding him a new weapon, one made of Asgardian gold and not of the tinted steel from the mines on Vanaheim. Taking Vali to the library in the high reaches of the castle and spending hours among the bookshelves, breathing in eons-old dust and rifling through yellowed pages of books older than Odin himself. He’s imagined what his twins would have looked like, had they lived to adulthood. He imagines Narfi would have probably grown his hair out to match his uncle’s, and his cocky grin would be constantly plastered across his face - more than it was already, of course. He would have been taller, more muscular, ready for battle and always on the alert. Vali would still be the taller twin, and would have grown to look more like his mother - long lashes and soulful eyes framed by blonde hair and accompanied by a shy smile.

 

When Sigyn and the twins were killed, Loki held their bodies until the sun rose. He remembers all too vividly crawling across the bloodsoaked, burning grass in order to pull his sons’ bodies towards himself. They were all so small in death. Sigyn’s slight body weighed nothing in Loki’s arms. He couldn’t even look at Narfi - the younger of the two twins had a gaping hole in his chest and there were bits of bone scattered on his front from where the blade had burst through his ribcage. Blood dripped steadily from where it had pooled in his mouth. Vali had lain with an arrow protruding from his throat. Loki remembers his little daughter, his beautiful little Hel, kneeling down beside her mother with a look in her eyes that no child her age should have. She touched her mother’s cold hand and for the first time truly understood death, and for the first time, wished she never understood it. Fenrir wailed in Jörmungandr’s arms, too young to know what had just happened and therefore probably crying out for food.

 

It pains Loki when he thinks of his surviving children, asleep in their hiding places, slowly growing older as the years pass. That’s the dark side of the spells he used - it keeps them alive, but it doesn’t keep them young forever. Meaning that when he can finally wake them, his children will be years older than they were when he last saw them. Most of their childhood - at least, for Fenrir and Jörmungandr - will have been spent in stasis. Hel, at least, got time to _be_ a child. She’d be in her teenage years, now. Jörmungandr too, though only by one or two years. Loki can imagine what she would have been like on this day, had her brothers lived to see it. Loud, if she turned out anything like her older brothers, and fearsome, carrying the same heart she had all the rest of her life. Probably still shadowed by that stupid dead fox.

He shudders to think what Jörmi would be like - as a kid he was too much to handle. The idea of him as a _teen_? Norns save everyone from that little terror.

Fenrir was too little to have a strict personality, so Loki struggles to imagine what he would be like. He was a babe - all he really did was cry and babble nonsense and repeat pointless questions. Loki likes to think that he would’ve grown to be like his mother. The universe could always use more kind souls like Sigyn’s.

 

Loki just hopes, that when he gets them back - and he _will_ get them back - that they can forgive him.

 

The doors to the penthouse are suddenly thrown open with reckless abandon, slamming against the wall with enough force to probably at least leave a chip in the glass. Loki whips around, startled, nearly sending one of the torn rosebuds flying off the table. He doesn’t have time to register exactly _why_ the doors were opened with such enthusiasm before he’s encapsulated in a bear hug that smells suspiciously of coffee, alcohol, and engine oil. _Tony._

“Anthony,” Loki hisses into Tony’s shoulder. “What’s this?”

“You should have told me,” Tony tells him, head buried in Loki’s shoulder.

“Told you what?”

“About your mom, Lokes,” Tony answers. Loki flinches.

“How did you find out?”

Tony pulls away, sheepish. “I, uh, May have been chatting with Thor.”

“Thor told you,” Loki says flatly. Of course Thor told him. Thor doesn’t know how to keep a secret. Thor is the worst. “Yeah,” Tony admits. “But Loki. You’ve been hiding this for how many months?”

And maybe it’s the dim light or the uncommonly soft tone of Tony’s voice, or maybe it’s the voice in his head saying _forgive him, you complete dolt, he’s only trying to help,_ and _you always were a stubborn one, weren’t you?,_ but all the anger Loki had been holding against Tony dissolves at the touch of Tony’s rough hand against Loki’s chin. “I didn’t want to tell you,” Loki murmurs, finally allowing his gaze to slide and interlock with Tony’s, “Because I didn’t want to burden you.”

He’s a little surprised when Tony barks out a short laugh. Loki raises an eyebrow quizzically. “Sorry,” Tony says quickly, “It’s just that Thor said the same thing to me. But take it from someone who’s been through this, holding it in just makes things worse.”

Loki had forgotten that Tony’s mother had died when he was younger. Why on Earth did he think Tony wouldn’t be able to help?

Loki stays quiet and Tony shuffles closer to him. “Baby. When we declared this relationship official, we became obligated to deal with each other’s problems. No matter how fucked up they are. I want to help, that’s all I want to do, that’s why I-” He breaks off with a sharp breath, trying to clear his thoughts so he can make a coherent sentence. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about the sentencing.”

Loki laughs inwardly. “I think I should probably apologize for overreacting.”

“No,” Tony cuts him off sharply. “I should have told you straight away. It’s on me.”

A weak smile twitches up the corners of Loki’s mouth. “Perhaps we should compromise and say neither one of us was in the right in this whole debacle.”

“That,” says Tony, “Sounds like a plan.”

“No more lies?” Loki says weakly, drawing an incredulous Tony Stark Eyebrow Raise™ from Tony. “Fuck no,” he says. “Asking you to stop with that is like asking someone to stop breathing. Ridiculous, unless you really just hate that person. That part is unrelated, I’m just saying. It’s in your nature and I’m not going to ask you to change yourself for me. We all need our secrets. You have yours and I’ve got mine - let’s just agree that if one of them involves one or both of us being in danger, we tell each other.”

“I can work with that,” Loki agrees.

They share a moment of silence, in the hazy, heavily perfumed living room, by the old oak table that had miraculously just appeared a few weeks prior and had since been turned into a home for discarded papers, charms and books both old and new, StarkPads that have needed to be charged for weeks, now, and a few other assorted objects that have made their way onto the polished wooden surface. It’s silent until Tony breaks it, voice low, gentle, as though Loki is a particularly fragile piece of chinaware, a teacup that will break if handled with anything but a feather-light touch. “How did it happen?”

Loki just sort of...wilts. He seems to age forty years at the question. “There was an attack on Asgard,” he replies slowly, barely audibly. “Some...some _bastard_ who escaped the dungeons cornered her in her quarters. She…” he chokes on his words, fumbles on them, nearly losing his grip, yet manages to compose himself and finish his sentence. “She was stabbed. Odin held her as she passed through the gates of Valhalla. She died because of a stupid, _foolish_ jab I made, and now she’s gone and I...I have to live with that.”  
“What are you talking about?”

The smile that twists Loki’s face is ugly and cold. “At the time of my mother’s murder, I was holed up in the dungeons. I couldn’t do anything from where I was, so I thought what the Hel, let’s play a fun little game and mess up my dear father’s plans. I gave the demon directions,” he explains. “Not knowing where my mother was. He killed her, and...it was my fault.”

Tony, for once, is driven speechless. Loki takes the opportunity to continue because what the hell, the dam was already leaking, why not just let the flood out?

“I have done bad things in my life, Tony, but were any of them cause enough for the people I loved to be slaughtered in cold blood? First my wife, and my sons, and now my mother...who is it going to be next time? You? Thor? One of my little ones, in their sleep?”

“Hey,” Tony says, sharply. Loki jerks his attention back to Tony. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m planning to be by your side for as long as I can. You and I, we’re gonna get through this.”

 

Because they will, won’t they? They will, and in the end, everything will turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Glossary of the Weird Shit™ said in this chapter:
> 
> Lesehest (Loki's nickname for Vali): Bookworm  
> Pronounced Less-hest
> 
> Bein (Hel's pet fox corpse): Bone, or Bones   
> Pronounced Bine


	30. Begin Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a relatively peaceful couple of years, things begin to stir up once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit!!! Here we are!!! Chapter 30!!! Did you know that this fic was originally meant to be 10 chapters? How far we've come. Phase 2 is gonna be super fun to write, I've had some scenes written out for AGES and I'm psyched for you all to read them!! 
> 
> Kisses from me, and enjoy!

It’s a funny thing, the passage of time. Sometimes it moves quickly, while other times it drags on. People move from one point to the next, just like always, and before you know it, another year has passed. More villains have been fought, the city is rebuilt, and the world keeps spinning just a little bit longer. 

 

So much can change in a year. It took a while, but Loki and Tony finally decided to make their relationship public. Sort of. They had planned on it, but when it actually happened, it happened by accident. All it took was one day of being a little too cosy together in public and the next morning all the tabloids were plastered with the same photo of Tony and Lucy  sharing an intimate moment against  Tony’s newly revamped  ‘69 Chevrolet Corvette. Lucy - more accurately, Loki -  was caught mid-laugh as Tony peppered her with kisses. The raw emotion in the photo was easy enough to read - this was an actual relationship, not just another fling.  _ BILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY SETTLING DOWN AT LAST? _ Read one of the headlines, along with others such as  _ SORRY, LADIES: STARK IS TAKEN!  _ and  _ MYSTERY GIRL WOOS IRON MAN _ . Tony hates the photo. For one, it’s a total invasion of his privacy. For another, Loki was wearing two-inch wedge heels that day, and they didn’t even make it into the picture, so he looks  _ tiny  _ compared to Loki. Loki, on the other hand, loves the photo and because Loki gets what Loki wants, the picture is framed and hung up over their bed, amongst other, sweeter photos not taken by creeps following them around with cameras. 

 

Avengers Tower is now home to Tony and Loki, obviously, and Clint, Nat and Bruce, on the days they’re not out on missions or in Bruce’s case, halfway across the world caring for the sick. Steve is living who knows where, but he still shows up on occasion to hang around the tower during his time off. After the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. - oh yeah, that happened too -, there’s less random ass agents popping up around the tower and scaring the shit out of Tony and/or Loki, but a few, like Agent Hill, work full time for the Avengers now. Thor is still there, because of course he is, the guy is like a baby duckling imprinting on some poor sap who got too close. At least now they know why - he’s searching for the missing scepter. 

A lot has changed but everybody has adjusted because when things happen slowly, you don’t notice they’ve happened at all until one day you look back and realize how far you’ve come. Nearly three years ago Tony found Loki on the beach outside a house that is now ruins, scared and alone. Now they share a bed together, and laugh at each other’s jokes, steal the other’s clothes and spend nights curled up on the couch together, watching B-list movies and chucking popcorn at each other. And it’s different. Neither one of them expected to make it this far. There’s still so much to do, so much more of their story to tell, but for right now, they’ve found a place to leave a bookmark. 

 

***

 

Loki is asleep when Tony stumbles into the penthouse bedroom nursing a bruised head and what J.A.R.V.I.S. is insisting is a fractured wrist. He looks so peaceful, curled up in the deep red comforter, pale face framed by the curls of dark hair sprawled over the light grey of his pillow. “Hey,” Tony whispers, prodding Loki in the shoulder. Loki lets out a sleepy hum but doesn’t stir. “Sunshine. Need you to come see something.” 

Another poke to the side. Loki rolls over with a grunt and smacks Tony across the face. He’s still fast asleep. “Dick,” Tony says, and proceeds to drop one of the extra pillows on Loki’s head. That gets him up. “Wha’ th’ fuck?” He slurs, blinking open bleary eyes. “Tony? What’re you doin’ here...thought you were out on-” he breaks off to yawn, face scrunching up like a sleepy cat. “-On patrol,” he finishes. 

“It’s five in the morning, I got back half an hour ago. You conscious enough to get up?”

Loki gives him a look that, even though he’s still half asleep, is more acerbic than anything Tony could ever hope to achieve. “You have eyes. You tell me.”

“I promise it’s important,” Tony tells him. 

Loki’s expression does not shift in the slightest. “Past experiences have forced me to distrust your promises,” he grunts. Tony would take offense if Loki was A, wrong, and B, wearing a shirt. “Fair, but I’m being serious here. You’ll want to come before anyone else is up.”

“Isn’t that usually the case?” Loki says, and Tony could kiss him. (He would. Except. Loki just woke up. So. No.)

Loki sighs deeply and pushes the blankets off of himself. Tony moves out of the way to let his boyfriend slide, uncharacteristically ungracefully, out of bed. “Let’s go,” he mutters, grabbing a grey cardigan as he pushes past Tony. He pulls it over his head as they walk to the elevator. “You know, you don’t have to do that,” Tony says. “I enjoy the view.”

Loki rolls his eyes. “You woke me up. I was having a fitful sleep. You don’t get to  _ enjoy  _ the view.”

“That’s cruel,” Tony tells him. “That’s just. That’s cruel.”

“Mm. Should have thought of that before you threw a pillow at me.”

“Would you have prefered a shoe? That’s how my mom used to get me up. I could have used a shoe.”

“I’m going to give you five seconds to shut the fuck up.”

“Or what? You’ll punish me?”

Loki stops dead and fixes Tony with his trademark scowl. “It is too early for your nonsense, Anthony.”

He starts walking again. “Sorry I woke you up,” Tony says as they step into the elevator. Loki makes a nonchalant noise. He’s leaning against the back wall, eyes narrowed. Tony notes, with a slight smile, that he’s barefoot. Loki should, by all means, look like a mess. His hair is untamed but despite that still manages to look relatively decent, and although he’s wearing black sweatpants and a worn cardigan, he radiates power and elegance as though standing victorious after battle. It’s an Asgardian thing, apparently. (He’d once accused Loki of using magic to make himself always look perfect; Loki had wholeheartedly denied it. Tony does not believe him.)

“How was the mission?” Loki asks, for the first time not sounding like he’s about to set Tony on fire. 

“Clint got shot,” Tony answers. Loki’s eyes snap open. “What? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s fine, he’s Clint. Guy’s resilient as hell. We brought him to the medbay as soon as we got back.”

“Thank the Norns,” Loki breathes. 

“Yeah. Everything else went fine, though. Wish you were there.”

Loki smiles and even after all this time, his genuine, sleepy smiles make Tony’s heart flip. “So do I,” Loki says. “Maybe one day.”

The elevator grinds to a stop on the workshop level and the doors ping open.

 

***

 

“So you found it,” Loki says flatly. “That’s...good, I suppose.”

“Yep,” Tony says, popping the “P” and glancing over at his boyfriend. Loki’s face is devoid of any emotion. He picks at the neckline of his cotton cardigan. “HYDRA had it?”

“Locked away in a creepy old castle,” Tony confirms. 

Loki takes a step forward and runs his fingers along the cool metal shaft of his lost scepter. The energy that runs through the weapon hums at Loki’s touch, almost as though it’s saying  _ hey, welcome back, I missed you.  _ “This is dangerous,” Loki says, as he lifts the scepter from its stand. “Don’t let anybody play around with it.”

“The only person playing with your glowstick will be me,” Tony assures him, earning an unamused eyebrow raise from Loki. “I had half hoped that this had been destroyed,” Loki admits with a hint of a sigh. “But I must confess I am relieved it was not. It was a formidable weapon.”

“Loki…” Tony warns, resting a hand on Loki’s back. Loki quirks up one side of his mouth. “Relax, my love. I am not going to succumb to its power again. My advice?” He gently places the scepter back into its cradle, running his fingers delicately along the sharp blades before stepping away and folding his arms. 

 

“Destroy it.”

  
  


***

 

The party has long since dwindled down, and with the exception of a few dead-to-the-world party hards who are collapsed in positions that they will definitely be feeling in the morning, only the few that actually live and/or work in Avengers Tower remain. 

Loki, in her female form, is perched elegantly in Tony’s lap, looking graceful as ever in a tight golden mermaid dress, sipping champagne from a tall crystal flute dangling from her ring-adorned fingers. Her hair has grown out a bit, since she cut it short to throw the few individuals who could recognize her in this form off her trail. It only just touches her bare shoulders. She’s surveying the scene before her through half-closed eyes, a smirk curling the corners of her perfectly painted lips. “Okay, but Barton’s absolutely right,” Tony is arguing, waving the arm not currently draped around Loki’s waist in the air, “The thing makes no goddamn sense. How can only  _ one  _ person pick it up? Like come on, that’s just a load of bull.”

“What can I say, Stark,” Thor replies, “It’s magic.”

“Okay, look,” Tony starts, and Loki’s eyes roll back into her head because this is the beginning of one of Tony’s patented I Know Science rants, and when he starts, he doesn’t stop. “Shapeshifting? Flight? I can get that. Biologically, you guys are different from us humans and therefore our rules might not apply to you. But Thor, buddy. Come on. What’s the secret? Fingerprint scanners? Bio-lock?”

“Magic,” Thor repeats, with a shrug. 

Loki stifles a snort into her champagne glass. Few people in this universe are as stubborn as Thor - but he has clearly met his match in Tony. The argument probably would have escalated, had Thor not challenged Tony to pick up Mjølnir. (He’s egged on by Clint, who moments earlier had tried to pick it up himself and ended up embarrassing himself in front of his entire team.)

“Tony,” Loki sighs, but moves aside anyways to allow Tony to stand up and make his way over to Mjølnir, confident in himself as ever. Nobody is shocked when - surprise - Mjølnir stays put and Tony nearly throws his back out in his attempts to prove Thor wrong. Rhodey steps up to “help” his friend, even going the length of putting their gauntlets on and attempting to lift the thing, as though the problem was that the hammer was too heavy, but it doesn’t work. It’s quite amusing to watch, really, even if Loki has seen the same thing happen a million times back on Asgard, when people would bet that they were worthy of the prince’s weapon. 

 

The whole argument starts a bit of a competition among the team, with each person going up and trying to lift Thor’s hammer. Thor himself is having a grand old time, as always, watching people injure themselves. Everyone tries, except Natasha, who just smiles knowingly and tells the team that she doesn’t need an answer to that question. Loki is halfway through her third glass of wine - she switched out the champagne when things started getting competitive - when Natasha glances over at her and a wicked grin flashes across her face, too quick for anybody too catch. “Hey, Lucy,” she says, “You should give it a try.”

Loki chokes on a mouthful of wine. Tony snorts into his beer bottle. “Oh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Loki objects, wiping the spilled wine off her chin and dabbing up the droplets that landed on her bare chest. 

“C’mon,” Natasha insists. “It’s just a little game, right?”

Loki makes an uncomfortable noise and glances around the room, at the expectant faces of the Avengers. “Miss Romanoff, it really isn’t-”

“Go on, then, babes,” Tony urges, and Loki’s glare almost turns him to dust. But she gets up, passes her glass off to Tony, wipes her hands off on her dress, and goes to stand in front of Mjølnir. 

 

Mjølnir’s grip is still warm from other people’s hands, and the leather is soft and worn. Loki is about to just get it over with, pretend to pick it up, act disappointed when it doesn’t move, but at the last second, a rather naughty idea pops into her brain. 

  
  


Tony knows Loki can’t wield Mjølnir. It had bothered the mage for a while, the first few months he had been on Earth, but now it’s pointless to even think about. Why should a hammer decide whether or not he was worthy? Regardless of how little Loki actually cares about the whole situation, Tony knows Loki is going to whoop his ass when this is all over, but at least nobody will get suspicious, right? 

 

Tony probably should have expected it wouldn’t be that simple. 

 

As Loki wraps her slender fingers around the hammer’s handle and carefully draws her hand up, Mjølnir moves. Actually, fully  _ moves,  _ rising about an inch off the surface before Loki yelps in surprise and drops it back down with a  _ thud  _ that shakes the whole table. 

 

The room goes silent. 

 

Tony’s look of disbelief is mirrored by everybody else, including Loki. “I don’t understand,” Thor says, narrowing his eyes. He seems much too calm for all this and Tony suspects that underneath the Cool God demeanor, he’s freaking the fuck out. “Who are you?”

Loki has the audacity to stammer out a response about how surprised she is and how maybe it was a mistake, because there’s no way she’s  _ worthy  _ of such an honour, etc. etc., and it’s there that Tony realizes what’s going on.

Loki stumbles back to her seat on Tony’s lap and does a very good job of looking shaken. 

“Nice trick,” Tony murmurs into Loki’s ear, breath warm against the mage’s skin. “But I thought you  _ didn’t  _ want Thor to know.”

Loki’s grin is hidden against Tony’s neck. “I’m allowed to have fun,” she says, defensive. “And it was worth it. Did you see the look on his face?”

 

“Who the fuck are you dating, Stark?” Clint sputters. “And why have you been keeping her cooped up all this time? Is she secretly a badass?”

“That’s anything but a secret,” Tony says smoothly. Loki smiles into her wine glass. 

“So is Lucy the queen of Asgard now?” Maria Hill questions.

“ _ God,  _ no,” Loki sputters, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. She’s met with more confused stares and awkwardly clears her throat. “I don’t think I could run a kingdom,” she says. “Actually, I  _ know  _ I couldn't. I’m more of a free spirit, you know?”

“Yes,” Thor says slowly, still remarkably calm for someone who just watched a random mortal chick pick up the hammer that was supposed to be impossible to lift. “A free spirit.”

 

***

 

Things go to shit real fast. In the next few hours, J.A.R.V.I.S. is destroyed, an evil A.I. is created and Loki’s scepter is stolen. Oh, and also, apparently the Avengers had run into a pair of highly powered individuals, which is a detail Tony helpfully left out when he had told the story to Loki. “You should let me come,” Loki says, as he followed Tony down into his workshop. “I know how the scepter works, I could be useful. No, scratch that, I  _ would  _ be useful.”

“You’re not coming,” Tony tells him for the umpteenth time. “You want to blow our cover? That’s how you do it. Just stay here, keep your comms on,  if things go south and we need some mojo on our side, I’ll call you. But  _ only, _ ” he emphasizes, “If we’re fucked so far up the ass the only thing that will save us is you and your glorious helm flying in.”

Loki screws up his nose. “Must you always make things dirty?” 

“I’m offended you have to ask that. I thought you knew me.”

Loki grunts and leans back against one of the white workbenches, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the polished surface. He watches through narrowed eyes as Tony suits up. His suit is still scuffed in places from the battle for the scepter, hence the reason why it’s in Tony’s workshop and not in its usual place. “Hey, wait,” Loki says, just before the faceplate closes. “Hm?” Tony replies, turning back towards Loki. “Stay safe,” Loki murmurs, leaning in and catching Tony’s lips with his own. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Darling, stupid is how I roll,” Tony shoots back with a grin, flipping the faceplate down. His cocky attitude is diminished with an unamused glare from his boyfriend. “But I’ll come back safe,” he promises. “I’ll always come home to you.”

Loki gives him a soft smile and pushes Tony’s shoulder lightly. “Go save the world, superhero.”

  
  


***

 

Here’s the thing. 

 

Here’s the  _ thing.  _

 

Loki is bored. 

 

For the first few months? Living on Earth was great! The only real rule was “don’t go outside looking like yourself”, which was fine, because Loki could look like whomever he wanted. But then the world started to recover from the New York invasion. And more villains started cropping up. Meaning the Avengers were busy. A lot. And as months turned into years, Loki was left at the tower over and over again, instructed to “keep on the comms” and “stay put”. But now he’s growing tired of it. There is only so many times one can read rune studies and spell books, only so many holes he can scorch into the walls, and only so many new tricks he can learn. There’s nothing to  _ do.  _ While Tony is out saving the world, Loki is here, making origami dragons and occasionally engaging Tony with suggestive talk over the comms system. He’s bored. Bored and powerful, which is not a great combination. He should be  _ out there,  _ kicking ass alongside his boyfriend and their team of mismatched heroes. He’d never imagined he would actually be  _ missing  _ having company, but being alone in the tower is making Loki sort of, well. Lonely. 

 

It’s around his twelfth cup of chai tea mixed with liqueur that Loki decides he’s had enough. Two years he’s put up with this - waiting around, having no idea what was going on apart from occasional updates through text message or comms, or in the worst cases, getting sharp pains in places as Tony gets smacked into a building or shot or something equally as painful. There’s still a death sentence on his head, but he’s gotten this far with nobody figuring it out. Hell, even  _ Thor  _ hasn’t figured it out, and he’s seen Loki shapeshift too many times to count. As day two of Tony’s absence rolls around, Loki is packing a bag and brushing the dust off his armour. He lifts his helm carefully from its stand, running a hand along the curve of the golden horns. How long has it been since he’s worn it into battle? He really can’t say. It feels...right, when he settles it over his greased back hair, a familiar weight upon his shoulders. Someday soon, he’ll create a new suit of armour for himself. When’s got more time on his hands, that is. 

 

Loki keeps his helm on as he tosses a couple journals and runestones into a satchel. His armour he stores away in a layer of his magic for later, which he’ll send his helm to when he’s done goofing off while wearing it. 

The tower feels empty without J.A.R.V.I.S.’ presence. He’s almost expecting the A.I. to confront him as he walks out onto Tony’s landing pad, and ask him  _ what on Earth do you think you’re doing, Mr. Loki, Mr. Stark gave me specific instructions to keep you inside.  _ But there’s nothing. Nothing except the wind whistling through the skyscrapers and the usual bustle below. Loki draws the hood of his black coat closer around his face and tightens the strap on his satchel. He’s weirdly giddy; he feels like he’s a kid again, and he’s about to sneak out of the castle with Thor to go on some wild adventure that would unequivocally end in a few broken bones. For the first time in two years, Loki feels that euphoric sense of danger again. And  _ god  _ how he missed it. 

 

Loki flexes his hands and shuts his eyes. He focuses on what he’s about to become, and lets the transformation take hold. With all his years of practice, transformation is easy and painless now. It feels sort of like he’s submerging himself in cold water; fluid and shocking at the same time, but not necessarily a bad feeling. He feels the wind grow less cold as a thick blanket of glossy black feathers envelops him in one swift motion. The newly-transformed Loki hops to the edge of the landing pad.  _ Let’s hope I can remember how to do this,  _ he thinks, as he launches himself towards the street below. For a couple terrifying seconds, he’s in freefall, wind buffeting his new feathers. But then he unfurls his wings and he shoots straight up, soaring up, up above the rooftops. To passersby on the street who happen to be looking up, all they see is a large black raven gliding to an unknown destination. 

 

And as Loki flies off, the bookmark Tony and Loki had placed in the documentation of their story slips out. 

 

The page turns. 

 

And part two begins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actual outtake from a draft of this chapter that was written after approximately two days with no sleep:
> 
> "Loki smiles and even after all this time, his genuine, sleepy smiles make Tony’s heart do the big uwu"
> 
> The shit I find while proofreading is gold. I've got a love/hate relationship with myself when I decide to write while tired.


	31. Mind Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes terribly wrong, forcing the Avengers to go into hiding in an odd place. A persistent raven doesn't leave Tony alone.

Tony is going to sue James Cameron. 

The  _ Terminator  _ series had been a lot more fun before the world was  _ actually  _ being taken over by robots, and watching the T-101 slam unlucky bastards through walls gets significantly less pleasurable when  _ you’re  _ the unlucky bastard getting slammed through a wall.  _ Ah ha ha,  _ Tony thinks, as he wrenches his arm free from a pile of rubble,  _ I’m James Cameron and I’ve created the best sci-fi franchise in the world! Look at me, with my ingenuity! Nothing like this could  _ ever  _ happen in real life!  _

 

Stupid, stupid science fiction. 

 

The head of an Ultron bot goes flying past Tony, narrowly missing him before it collides with a far wall and explodes in a fountain of sparks. “Everyone okay?” He shouts over the comms.  

_ “We’re fine,”  _ Natasha replies, though she sounds far from it.  _ “Thought we’d lost you, though. What happened?”  _

“Had a run-in with the main man,” Tony grunts. “Met a wall. Suddenly feeling less safe on boats, seeing as a human man can put a giant hole through the hull if thrown hard enough.”

Tony scowls at the new gouge in his armour; with his luck, the left-hand thrusters have been beat to shit. “I’m grounded,” he announces, confirming his suspicion by aiming his gauntlet at a wall and firing. The gauntlet sputters and electricity arcs up his arm. “Thor, you’ve got the skies while I sort this out.” 

_ “Affirmative. Do be careful, Stark.” _ Thor’s voice is crackling over the comms system, as per usual. Tony suspects the fact that he’s constantly supercharged with lightning does something to mess with the tech. “Yeah, I will. Keep an eye out for-” 

Something knocks Tony flat on his back, hard enough that his built in computer glitches out for a couple seconds and leaves him blind. It turns back on just in the nick of time for Tony to catch a flash of blue dart around a corner. “Freaky twins are here!” He shouts into the comms. “I repeat, the freaky twins are here. Just got knocked on my ass by the speedy dude.”

_ “Yeah,”  _ Steve says. He sounds sort of out of it. Almost distraught?  _ “We know. The red haired girl just made an appearance.” _

 

Tony shivers, remembering the horrible things the twin with the red hair had put in his head. “Those guys are  _ seriously  _ getting on my nerves.” He’s met with mutters of agreement from the rest of his team. From his vantage point on one of the upper catwalks, he sees Steve heaving himself back to his feet on the floor below, and Natasha kneeling on the floor, shellshocked. Tony vaults himself over the railing, hoping to god his thrusters work well enough to provide him a relatively painless landing. (They do not.) He lands on the metal floor with a loud grunt. (Note to self: jumping from high places in a metal suit? Hurts like a bitch.) 

Natasha is staring blankly at her hands by the time Tony reaches her. “Hey, Widow.” Tony kneels down in front of her. Natasha doesn’t react. When Tony reaches out and taps her hand with his armoured fingers, she stays completely still. “Nat?” Tony deactivates his helmet to get a better look at her without the glitching computer pixels clouding his vision. “Hey. Earth to Romanoff.” He rests his hands on her shoulders, feeling the tenseness in her muscles, like she’s ready to launch herself at an attacker. When she still shows no response, Tony turns to his comms. “Romanoff is down. Anybody copy?”

“ _ I copy. I’ll be right there. And, uh, we’ve got another problem,”  _ Clint croaks.  _ “They got away.” _

“Shit!” Tony swears. “And Ultron?”

_ “Gone,”  _ Steve grunts.  _ “Took the vibranium, too.” _

“Shit!” Tony says again. This mission went to hell real fast. 

_ “Uh, guys?”  _ Clint says before Steve can talk.  _ “Where’s Banner?”  _

 

***

 

“I’m really sorry.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“I could’ve killed you.”

 

“Really, it’s fine.”

 

“You’re bleeding again.”

 

“No kidding.”

 

Bruce has the decency to look apologetic. As he should, having just smacked Tony into about seven different buildings. He’s wearing some old cardigan that absolutely swamps him, makes him look like a child. The quinjet is silent apart from the back-and-forth banter between Tony and Bruce as Tony tries to stanch the blood seeping from a nasty cut on his bicep. 

They don’t actually have a course planned out. Avengers Tower is compromised, as is the new Compound. Every government agency has their guns trained on anywhere they might be. (So much for being heroes.) Their best bet is to just fly as far away as possible and hope nobody finds them before they can regroup. It’s safe to say that this mission was a total disaster. It’s a miracle nobody died, at least on their team. It chills Tony to think of what lives might have been lost during Hulk’s rampage. 

 

When they finally get their hands on those twins, Tony might just throttle the girl himself. 

 

At least Clint had been able to snap Nat out of her fucked-up mind warp. They’re sitting in the cockpit now, heads bent together, quietly discussing something. They keep glancing over at their team; there’s a moment where Tony catches Clint’s eye and the archer squints, like he’s scanning Tony. But then Natasha taps Clint’s hand with a finger, and they go back to whatever super-secret conversation they were having. 

 

In one corner of the jet, Thor is uncharacteristically still, sitting with Mjolnir at his side, eyebrows furrowed in concerned concentration. Tony wonders, briefly, what the god is thinking about. They all have the day’s events weighing heavily on their mind, but Thor looks like he’s doing mental calculations. Whatever he’s thinking about, he’s completely lost in thought, and he probably will be for a while longer. 

 

Steve occupies the other corner, bent over something cradled in his palm. It’s unnatural, seeing Steve like this. Steve’s the leader, the man in charge. Any evidence of their fearless captain has vanished.  “Hey, Cap,” Tony says quietly, walking across the jet to sit across from Steve on a crate. Steve starts, having apparently not heard Tony approach, snapping his fingers shut around whatever he’s holding. “Tony. Hi. Everything okay?”

“You tell me,” Tony says, glancing down at Steve’s closed fist. “What’s that?”

The soldier furrows his eyebrows, drawing a thumb across the small object. He opens his hand to show Tony a round compass, beaten and rusted with age. Tony is about to ask why on earth Steve would keep this thing, which probably couldn’t even show the right direction, when Steve flicks it open. Inside is a photo of a woman. Tony blinks in surprise. “May I?” He asks, extending a hand. Steve hesitates, but passes the compass over. The (much younger) eyes of Peggy Carter stare back at him. “I forget you two were friends,” Tony admits with a chuckle. 

“You knew her?”

Tony nods, passing the photo of his godmother back to the captain. “Yeah. Aunt Peggy. Kept me out of plenty of trouble as a kid. I stopped smoking because of her. Scared me so bad, I couldn’t even  _ look  _ at a pack of cigarettes.”

Steve cracks a smile at that, a fond light shining in his eyes. “She’s pretty tough,” he agrees. “Toughest woman I’ve ever known.”

Tony flashes Steve a subdued smile; the slight action causes a twinge of pain to shoot through the right side of his face, bruised from being slammed into the ground by the speedster. What should have been a smile comes out as more of a grimace. 

“I saw her,” Steve says softly. He turns the compass over in his fingers. “When that girl touched me, suddenly I was in this dance hall. One we used to go to, back in the day. Everybody was dancing and laughing, there was music...and then she appeared, and everyone else was gone.” Tony notices, as Steve talks, that there’s a heavy weight on the captain’s shoulders. 

“I’m sorry, Cap.” Tony pats him on the shoulder. “That shit is scary as hell.”

Steve lets out a forced laugh. “That’s for sure. Have you, y’know…”

“Taken a terrible acid trip to my worst fears? Oh, yeah.”

 

Suddenly the old Steve is back, sitting up straight, arms crossed, brow furrowed in that concerned mama bear look he’s got. “What’d you see?”

Tony hesitates, glancing around at his beaten down team. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you later. Morale of the team is already seriously low.”

Steve dips his head in understanding, and as Tony wanders back to his chair, all he can think of is Steve’s broken, dying body, begging Tony for help. 

 

***

 

The quinjet touches down in a field just as the sun starts to set. Everybody stands, groaning, legs cramped from being confined in a small space for hours. They have to shake Bruce awake, as the scientist had fallen into a near-coma around hour nine. Everybody stumbles out of the jet, tired, sore, and hungry. The field they’ve landed in is surrounded by woods, a sanctuary in amidst the dark trees. There’s an old barn off to one side, the paint chipping and several boards missing from spots, and in the pen outside a few white chickens hop around, pecking away at buried seeds. What really catches the team’s eye is the quaint, off-white farmhouse situated at the edge of the woods. It’s big and old-fashioned, something straight out of a storybook, right down to the green shutters on the windows and the wraparound veranda strewn with wicker chairs and quilts hanging to dry. “Well, I’ll be the first to ask if we’re going to be running into Little Red Riding Hood,” Tony says. There’s a murmur of agreement from the team behind him. “Shut up, Tony,” Clint grunts, pushing his way to the front. “This is a safehouse.” 

“Top secret S.H.I.E.LD. safehouse,” Natasha adds, following after her partner with a limp to her stride. “Come on.”

 

They set off across the field, the quinjet shimmering into cloaking mode. It’s an odd sight, the six of them, dressed in full combat gear and covered in their own blood, trekking across a wheat field to a picturesque farmhouse. It could be a metaphor. Or something equally poetic. But it’s not, it’s just six weird people in weird outfits shambling to a house like a bunch of zombies. Clint opens the door and walks over the threshold, leaving it open for the rest of the Avengers. The inside is just as quaint as the outside - worn couches, wooden coat racks, wool rugs dirtied by feet stomping mud in between the fibers. It’s nothing like any safehouse Tony has ever seen. Safehouses are generally plain, like a room in a chain hotel. The ones that look the same no matter where you are. This is...more like a home. 

 

“Safehouse, huh?” Tony says, lifting a picture frame from its spot on a low wooden cabinet. A picture of significantly younger Clint and Natasha is held within the white frame. Nat’s hair is long and curly, similar to when Tony first met her, while Clint has his hair pulled back in one of those awful little rat tails. They’re smiling at the camera, Clint’s arm around Natasha’s shoulders. They look nothing like the Clint and Natasha standing in the hall a little ways ahead of Tony. These are two completely different people; certainly not deadly assassins. 

Natasha eyes the frame in Tony’s hand. “This is... _ our  _ safehouse,” she tells him. “We live here when we’re not on missions.”

An image of Natasha in overalls and a floppy straw hat pops into Tony’s head. He snorts. “Wait, really?”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. Where did you think we go?”

Tony exchanges looks with Steve, who’s just as confused as he is. “Honestly, I’ve been imagining a cave,” Tony admits. “Maybe some good old fashioned medieval torture racks. Couple of skeletons.”

Natasha throws him a poisonous glare. “Why’d we bring him?” She mutters to Clint. 

“Because we’d be fucked if he was left behind,” Clint grunts as he wanders down the hallway of his shockingly tidy home, unbuckling his quiver and tossing it onto a chair. “Don’t leave that there,” Natasha calls over her shoulder, apparently knowing exactly what Clint just did. “I sit on it again and it’s going to the pigs.”

 

Clint grumbles something inaudible. Natasha lets out a deep sigh and turns to go up the rickety wooden stairs, one foot on the bottom step. “You can leave your stuff in the side room there,” she instructs the Avengers, pointing to an open closet door. “The door at the end of the upstairs hallway is mine, but the rest of the rooms are up for grabs. Get some rest. God knows we all need it.”

“What about Clint’s room?” Tony shouts after her. Nat glances down at him, perfect eyebrow raised. She doesn’t answer the question. 

 

***

 

By the time the sun is kissing the horizon, each Avenger has hidden themselves behind wooden doors to reflect on the day’s events. Everyone except for Thor, who took off as soon as he was sure the rest of his team was okay. No one minds all that much; Natasha is passed out already, and the rest are sure to follow. (Tony offered the room between Steve & Clint up to Bruce; sacrifices must be made for the sake of his own sanity. Being a super soldier doesn’t cure snoring.) 

 

The old oak bed in the attic has definitely seen better days, but it’s comfortable enough when Tony flops face first onto it. He’s not a big fan of the pink teddy bear quilt, but hey, he’ll take what he can get. Apart from a white rug in the center, the floor of the bedroom is bare wood, worn down from many years of being trod on. Sunlight filters in through the faded curtains that hang limply on either side of the square window, catching the dust in its rays. Tony rolls over onto his back and groans as his muscles give a loud exclamation of pain. He’ll be feeling today for a long while. 

 

Something lands on the open window sill. Tony doesn’t notice it until the bird lets out a loud  _ caw  _ that resonates through the small room.

Irritated but not in the mood to move from his position sprawled across the bed, Tony grabs the closest thing he can find - a fluffy brown teddy bear left on the pillow - and hurls it in the general direction of the window. He hears the bird squawk and Tony smiles into the quilt. He has about ten seconds of peace before the damn thing starts crowing again, even louder than before, and Tony has to wonder if it’s doing it on purpose. “Oh for fuck’s sake-” Tony grunts, heaving himself around to glare at the rather ticked-off raven perched on the sill. His movement seems to please it, because the pitch black bird ruffles its feathers and starts to preen under its wings. “Fuck off!” Tony shouts at it. “Go away! Get out!”

The raven pauses preening in order to fix Tony with its beady little stare. The look is scarily judgemental, coming from a bird. Tony pins it on his lack of sleep and flops back onto his stomach. The raven caws again. Tony pulls a pillow over his head, which only agitates the bird more, and it bursts into a barrage of loud cries and truly awful squawking. Tony screams into the bed. Fucking  _ birds.  _

“I am going to break your fucking neck!” He howls. “What did I ever do to you? Just let me sleep!”

To his surprise - but not to his complaint - the raven shuts up. Had Tony not buried his head under the pillows, he might have heard the faint hum of an illusion being shed. 

“No need to get so violent, darling,” says a familiar voice. Tony freezes, because there’s no  _ way  _ he’s here, especially after Tony told him to stay put, and his boyfriend might be reckless but surely he wouldn’t…

 

Tony lifts the pillow off of his head. Loki is perched precariously on the open window sill, long legs kicked up against the frame. He waggles his fingers at Tony, grinning cheekily. “Oh, Christ,” Tony groans. Why did nobody ever listen to him?

Loki hops off of the sill in one smooth motion, landing lightly on the floor with little noise. As annoyed as Tony is to see him, he will admit, Loki looks good. A little windswept and tired, but good. He’s clothed in a plain black leather training suit, one that Tony recognizes from their sparring sessions, the one with the built-in gloves, and his hair is swept back into a messy ponytail with a single long black feather stuck in the tie. The whole Asgardian assassin aesthetic is ruined by the modern bookbag flung over his shoulder. “Hi,” Loki chirps, looking much too pleased with himself. “Hi,” Tony responds, considerably less chipper. “What are you doing here?”

Loki breezes past him to drop his bag on the bed that, now that it dawns on Tony he’ll probably be sharing it, suddenly looks a lot smaller. “I got bored.”

Tony sighs heavily, rubbing his bandaged hand across his eyes. “Loki, you can’t  _ be here.  _ I guarantee the team’s gonna start to question it if my girlfriend - who they’re already suspicious of showed up at a top-secret safehouse that exactly three people knew about before today.”

Loki plops down on the end of the bed. “I’m sort of offended you think I’m stupid enough to take on a disguise they’ve already seen. Besides,” he leans back, resting on his elbows. “I thought you’d be happy to see me. It seems you’ve had a rather...rough day.” Loki eyes the many bloodied bandages bound around Tony’s various injuries. “Knocked me off course a couple of times.”

“We had a deal,” Tony reminds him. Loki continues to look unbothered. “We had a deal for two years, one month, and sixteen days,” he answers with a light shrug.

“Of course you’ve been keeping count,” Tony grumbles.

“I’ve sat idle while you, like a fool, risked your life and fought evil,” Loki carries on. “If you want to complain and attempt to make me leave, go right ahead. It won’t work, but you can try.”

Tony heaves a sigh. He should have figured his boyfriend would tag along at some point. (Although he will admit, this was the  _ worst  _ possible mission he could have shown up on, what with the vision of him laying dead with his stomach slashed open and all.) “Is this  _ really  _ what you want?” He asks. Loki nods, a fire of determination lit in his eyes. “You need my help, Tony. Whether or not you’re willing to accept it. This is  _ my _ scepter we’re after here. And you’ll need all the help you can get. I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Tony covers Loki’s hand with his own. “I’m  _ complaining  _ because I love you and don’t want you to get hurt, which you’ve got a tendency to do.”

“Tony,” Loki chides. “I’m over one thousand years old. One of my sons is a giant snake, the other a wolf, and my daughter can raise the dead. I fought mythological beasts when I was  _ twelve.  _ I wielded weapons before I could speak. If anyone here has the skills to save the world and look good doing it, it’s me.” He lifts his hands so he can gently tilt Tony’s head up to his eye level. “Don’t worry about me,  _ kjære _ . Worry about yourself, and the massive gash in your side.” His eyebrows knit together in concern and he yanks Tony’s shirt up to examine the hastily taped on gauze patch. “By the  _ Norns,  _ Tony. Who fixed this up?”

“Steve,” Tony tells him, swatting Loki’s hands away and tugging his shirt back down. 

“Well, Steve is shit at first aid,” Loki retorts. “Pardon my language. Is everybody on this team incompetent?”

“And he’s back to insulting people,” Tony deadpans. Loki ignores him - so nothing new -, instead lighting a soft green flame in his hand and running light fingers over the bandaged wound. It burns white hot at first before simmering down into a warm, welcome sensation. Tony lets out an obscene moan as the pain melts away. Loki’s mouth twitches as he tries to hold back a laugh, though he stays hyper focused on his work. “There,” he announces, drawing his hands away. “Good as new. You see, Tony?” He leans in to give Tony a peck on the cheek. “I’m a big help.”

“I know you are,” Tony runs a hand through his hair, purposefully not making eye contact. “Trust me, I want you to fight alongside me, I do, and I know you can take care of yourself, it’s just...this is sort of the worst possible mission for you to show up to.”

Loki’s expression shifts into one of confusion. “A possibly world-ending one? I would think this was the  _ best  _ mission for me to help with.” 

Tony chews on his lip. “Okay. Okay. Here’s the thing. There’s this girl, some science experiment of Strucker’s, who can manipulate human minds. She caught me way back at the base, when we got the scepter, and she, uh, stuck some pretty terrible things in my head. Things like…” He breaks off, chest growing tight. Loki tilts his head expectantly. “...Well, things like you. Dead on a battlefield, alongside everybody else. And I know it wasn’t real, it’s just...it  _ felt  _ real.” Tony shudders. “It’s like I was actually  _ there.  _ And my team, my  _ friends,  _ had been slaughtered in front of me like animals. I could smell the blood, feel the ground beneath me...it wasn’t like one of your illusions. Christ, Lokes, it was  _ nothing  _ like one of your illusions.”

 

Loki is watching Tony with pity in his eyes, lips slightly parted. “Oh, kjære…” he scoots closer, so he can take Tony’s hand and press a kiss to the knuckles. “I am so, so sorry. That must have been truly horrific. Have you told the others?”

Tony shakes his head; Loki’s grip on his hand grows tighter. “Then I’m glad you told me,” he murmurs. “Together we can ensure you don’t fall victim to a self-fulfilling prophecy.” Loki brushes a kiss against Tony’s temple, their fingers intertwined in his lap. “Don’t dwell on it or it will consume you.”

Tony releases a deep breath. “I still think you should go home.”

“Tony.”

“I know, I know. Hey, Loki?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m glad to see you.”

 

***

 

Life at Clint and Natasha’s farmhouse starts to feel a bit like living in a sitcom. As the Avengers anxiously wait for the manhunt in the outside world to cease, they plot what steps to take and keep an eye on any possible Ultron activity while also feeding the chickens, chopping firewood, and shooing away an incredibly persistent raven that keeps showing up in the dining room. It shouldn’t be funny, but Tony can’t help but laugh at the sight of Captain America, the poster boy of heroism and villain-punching, swatting at a pissed off rooster with a dilapidated broom and shrieking like a twelve year old when it flies at him. 

 

They all wish it could be like this forever. Free to laugh at each other when something goes wrong, without the knife of Ultron’s invasion pressed into their spine. Everybody is on edge, even jumpier than usual. The worst example was when Bruce brushed past Natasha a little too quickly and Nat pulled a loaded gun on him. She was a totally different person; Tony suspected this was what she was like before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. Cold, feral, ready to kill at a moment’s notice. Clint had had to drag her away by her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. 

 

That was only one of several related incidents. 

 

What should have been a few days grows into a week. Tony buries himself in work, retreating into the barn in order to fix his suit with no interruptions. Clint fires arrow after arrow into a massive, gnarled tree on the front lawn, determination set in the deep lines of his face. Nat can be found in the field, giving hell to a training dummy with anything she can get her hands on. Everybody keeps themselves busy when they’re not all in the living room planning their next moves; staying still for too long lets the visions the Scarlet Witch embedded in their heads take flight once again. 

 

***

 

_ “You could have saved us.”  _

 

_ “Why didn’t you do more?” _

 

_ The stone is slick with blood. Pools of it dot the ground, macabre paint pots made from the life of his - no, Tony’s - team.  His foot knocks against something soft and he looks down into the glazed eyes of the archer, his throat torn open in a ghastly display of strength from an unknown assailant. The taste of bile lays heavily on his tongue as his eyes sweep across the scattered bodies of his friends. Every sound is amplified tenfold. Banner’s last breath comes out in a shudder as he goes still. Natasha’s lifeless fingers reach out in a last desperate attempt to touch her partner, laying on her side with pale skin painted red. A single blade protrudes from her spine, sleek and black, unearthly. Chitauri.  _

_ Thor’s hammer is broken. The impossible has happened. Someone - Loki doesn’t dare to  think who - has felled the god of thunder. Loki steps over his brother’s body, somehow unable to control his actions even though every instinct within him is begging for him to stop and kneel by his brother, send him to Valhalla with a prayer and a final embrace. But he keeps moving. “You could have saved us,” Steve hisses, again, and again and again, even though his chest has long stopped working. The captain’s last words echo through the still air as Loki sinks to his knees in front of the last body; tall and thin, clad in leather. The man’s hair is slick with blood and sweat, hanging limply over his face. Blood dribbles down the man’s chin and onto his chest, which is already so mangled Loki can’t tell where it falls. Bone is visible in the sea of torn muscle and blood, little islands of off-white. Loki reaches out trembling hands to lift the man’s head up. A horrified shout rips itself from his throat as he finds himself looking into his own dead face. He falls back, palms hitting the cold ground hard enough to send jolts of pain surging through his arms.  _

 

Loki’s cry of dismay carries through to the waking world as he snaps back to himself. His hands scramble to his chest, bunching up the cloth that is a Black Sabbath shirt of Tony’s, feeling the dampness of sweat soaked up in the shirt. “Baby?” Tony’s voice is raspy with sleep but it’s enough to pull Loki out of the sea of dread he’s drowning in. “Hey,” Loki says, fighting to keep the shaking out of his voice. “You okay?” Tony yawns. His hair glints in the moonlight. Loki sits up, forcing himself to look away from his boyfriend. “Just a bad dream.”  _ That’s an understatement.  _ “I...I’m going to take a walk.”

He doesn’t wait to hear Tony’s response as he kicks the blankets off and pads over to the wooden ladder. It creaks as he descends; not loud enough to wake anyone, thank the Norns. The house is completely silent as Loki wanders in a sort of trance. He ends up in the dining room, curled up on the grey canvas couch propositioned to face the table. A shudder wracks Loki’s body, sending a plume of green fire curling off his shoulders. Whatever it was he just dreamt of - and he assumes it was Tony’s vision - is doing something to his seidr. He loathes to think of what could happen if exposed to this enhanced young woman. It does make him wonder, though, what she would show him. If she is able to force a person’s mind into their worst fear...well, she would certainly have a lot to choose from if she wanted to mess with Loki. The void, his biological family, falling back under the control of the Mad Titan...this witch would have a field day. 

 

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by the quiet  _ click  _ of a gun being cocked. “How’s it going, Lucy?” A soft female voice purrs. Loki shuts his eyes and hisses out a swear. Footsteps echo across the hardwood floor as Natasha slinks around the couch, gun still trained at Loki’s head. He glares up at her, jaw clenched, hands raised by his sides. “Miss Romanoff,” Loki greets in a clipped tone. Natasha remains expressionless. “I was wondering when you would show your true face,” she says coldly. “Naturally it’s now, when we’re after one of the most powerful weapons we’ve ever encountered, which just  _ happened  _ to be wielded by  _ you. _ ” 

Loki’s mouth twists into a sharp smile, eyes flickering closed like he’s enjoying the gun being pointed at his temple. “Well, what else was I supposed to do? Let you pathetic, mewling mortals rub your grubby hands all over it? No, Miss Romanoff.” He blinks open blue eyes at her, cold as his smile. “I don’t think so.”

Natasha’s lips part in surprise, fumbling on the butt of her gun as Loki rises, towering over her in his full armour. “I did rather hope it would be you who discovered me first. You’re ever so much fun to tease.”

“Did Tony know?” Natasha spits. “Or have you been manipulating him, too? Making him believe you were dead while sleeping beside him the whole time? He was  _ broken,  _ Loki. Didn’t you know?”

Loki places a hand on his chest and gasps in mock offense. “Miss Romanoff, just how evil do you think I am? I would  _ never  _ break someone’s heart like that.” A smirk flutters across his face. “Ah, who are we kidding. I so would. But not Tony’s,” he adds quickly. “Never Tony’s. He’s going to play a very special part in what’s to come.”

“You bastard,” Natasha hisses. 

“Language,” Loki tuts, stepping forward and backing Natasha toward the wall. “I think I might just have to take your tongue for that, dear Widow.”

 

Natasha pulls the trigger. 

 

The gun clicks. She tries again, horror flashing across her features as Loki advances. Her gun clicks each time she tries to fire it; it’s completely useless. “Don’t come any closer,” she demands, but the threat falls short as her voice trembles. 

“Oh, quit your blathering. I’m  _ kidding. _ ” The voice comes from behind her, a snicker terribly masked beneath the smooth accent. Natasha whips around and nearly drops her gun in shock. Loki is seated cross legged in the center of the table, dangling her gun from his fingers. A flash of green illuminates the room for a split second, and both the armoured Loki and the gun in Natasha’s hands disappears. She notes, with some indignation, that he’s wearing a pair of sleep shorts and an old shirt of Tony’s. Definitely not the garb of a world-dominating crazy person. “You can relax,” he tells her. “I’m not going to kill you. Although your face  _ was  _ hilarious.” Loki - the real one - tosses her gun and cartridge back. Natasha snatches them out of the air and slides them slowly into her waistband. “Let me see your eyes.”

Loki rolls said eyes but allows Natasha to examine him. “You scared me. I thought it only fair I scared you back.”

“Uh huh.” Natasha leans back, folding her arms. “I think I might shoot you.”

Loki props his head up on a fist. “And  _ I  _ think that would make things worse. However did you figure it out?”

“Figure what out?”

Loki gestures at himself. “That Lucy was me.”

Natasha snorts. “It wasn’t difficult. I suspected you weren’t who you claimed to be for ages, but I realized who you  _ really  _ were that night in the tower when you lifted Mjolnir.”

Loki inclines his head, lips forming an  _ O.  _ “Yes. That was a poor idea on my point.”

“Love made you dumb,” Natasha agrees. They both laugh, and the tenseness between the pair drops away. “Anyways,” Loki continues. “You figured me out. Can I figure you out?”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, which Loki takes as a go-ahead. 

The mage spreads his hands. “This safehouse. It isn’t just a safehouse, is it?”

Natasha narrows her eyes. “No.”

“And you and Clint.” Loki’s grin turns wicked now, a mischievous light in his natural green eyes. “You’re not just  _ work  _ partners, are you?”

 

The Black Widow opens her mouth to object, catches Loki’s eye, then closes it with a defeated sigh. “No,” she admits. “We’re...a couple. Romantically.”

Loki hops off the table, satisfied with her answer. “As I thought. You do a convincing job of hiding it, though. I’m impressed.”

Natasha suppresses a smile. “Well. That is our job.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. So what do you say?” He extends a hand. “I keep your secret, and you keep mine?” 

Natasha eyes Loki’s hand warily.  _ What the hell,  _ she thinks, and accepts it. “I can do that.” 

“Excellent,” says Loki sweetly. “Goodnight, Miss Romanoff.”

 

“Goodnight, Raven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I scare u guys
> 
> Please tell me I scared u guys with Loki's lil game
> 
> I had fun writing it i'm such a shit


	32. Familial Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spooked by a surprise visitor, Loki makes a house call of his own. A brief interlude reveals the fate of two heirs of the throne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering about the fate of this fic after Endgame's release:
> 
> Don't u worry your pretty lil faces. This fic is my mental support system. I already know Endgame is gonna fuck me up so I guess...except quicker updates as I write to dull the pain?

Nobody ever stays dead in this day and age.

 

Case in point: Nick Fury, who had shown up at the table in the farmhouse kitchen and caused Earth’s Mightiest Heroes to have a collective heart attack. Now usually, Loki can respect a man who can fake his death that convincingly, but it’s a little different when he comes downstairs at five in the morning and the man who signed his death warrant is eating a bagel six feet away, half hidden in shadow. He wasn’t aware he could backtrack up a flight of stairs so quickly. 

 

“There is a situation in the kitchen,” Loki announces as he slams the door to the room he shares with Tony, leaning heavily against it as he does so. Tony glances up from his tablet, eyebrow cocked. “Did Clint try to cook again?”

“I think it’s best if you saw for yourself,” Loki answers hoarsely. He pads across the room, once again shocking Tony at how quietly he can move, and opens the window. Tony watches, half amused, half confused, as Loki jumps onto the windowsill and prepares to leap off. “What in the fuck are you doing?” Tony asks, confounded, finally setting his tablet down. 

“Removing myself from a perilous situation,” says the man about to jump out of a third-story window onto a concrete walkway. 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony exclaims. He tosses his tablet to the side and hurries to Loki’s side, gripping his boyfriend’s shoulders. “You are not seriously gonna  _ jump out of a window _ , are you?”

Loki looks at him, then at the ground outside, then back at Tony. He blinks a couple of times like he’s calculating what Tony just said. “Well, yes,” he finally answers, the  _ duh  _ unspoken but clear in his tone of voice. “Jesus Christ,” Tony says again. He tugs Loki off the windowsill, much to the indignation of his boyfriend. 

 

Loki shakes himself free of Tony’s grasp and attempts to hop back up onto the sill. “What the fuck!” Tony says. It comes out as a strangled yelp. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’ve fallen from the sky and from the top of our tower,” Loki deadpans. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Tony groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Why in the hell are you climbing out the window? Clint’s cooking disasters aren’t radioactive or anything.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “Actually, they could be.”

Loki pauses his attempts at crawling out the tiny window. “I can assure you Clint has  _ nothing  _ to do with this.” His voice drops to a whisper and he glances around like he's expecting somebody to be watching them; obviously, there would be eavesdroppers outside a third-floor window on a farm in the middle of nowhere. “Nick Fury is downstairs.”

Oh. That was...unexpected. “I beg your pardon,  _ who _ ?” Tony sputters. “Like,  _ Nick Fury  _ Nick Fury?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “No, I  _ clearly  _ mean Nick Fury the chicken that our favourite pair of assassins have. Yes, Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the man who agreed to have me killed on sight.”

“I thought he was dead!” Tony yells after Loki, who has successfully dropped down to the ground below. “People can fake their deaths,” Loki calls back, spreading his hands and gesturing at himself. Tony flinches away as a great flash of green light momentarily illuminates the garden and when it clears, a certain large raven sits in the grass, ruffling its wings.  _ I’m going to run some recon,  _ Loki’s voice says in Tony’s head.  _ Comm me when he’s gone.  _

Tony sighs, giving the bird in the garden a thumbs up. Loki caws, sounding almost cheerful, for a bird, and opens his wings. Tony watches him fly off until he’s no more than a speck on the horizon.

What a weird life he leads.

 

***

 

To be completely fair, Loki didn’t really need to scramble out a window just so Fury wouldn’t see him. He’s a shapeshifter and a master of illusion - if he can still fool Tony, who at this point has gotten so well accustomed to Loki slinking around the penthouse completely invisible that he can throw a stress ball and still hit him square in the face, then he can one hundred percent fool a one-eyed, pure-blooded human who only experienced the untamed, destructive side of Loki’s abilities. It’s not that Loki was  _ scared  _ to be there. That would be preposterous. It’s just that he didn’t  _ want  _ to be. Planning strategies for an incursion in which Loki would be sidelined was not, and has never been, his favourite pastime. (Although if someone were to ask Thor, he would scoff and tell the asker that the very idea of Loki missing a strategy conference was ludicrous. His little brother was  _ always  _ there. And technically he would be  _ right,  _ because he did always  _ see  _ Loki there, but again. Master of illusions.)

 

There are other ways Loki can help the team from outside the war table. For example, a master of magic has the helpful ability to track down other masters of magic. (This is useful for several reasons; to find a like-minded ally, or in some cases - although not Loki’s, obviously, he would  _ never,  _ why would you even think that? -, vanquish a possible rival.) The spell works for any type of magic, Aesir or otherwise. It does, however, take a lot of energy, which is how Loki winds up laying face down on a flight of cement stairs, groaning. The last time he attempted a spell this big...well, it was in New York, and it involved Tony. At least  _ that  _ spell just made him dizzy and nauseous - the tracking spell has left Loki feeling like he’s been flung through a wall, dropped into a lake, and smacked in the stomach by a cement block. It’s a lot. He’s wondering why the hell he didn’t just turn himself into a mouse or something and stick around the farmhouse. The farmhouse wouldn’t have made him throw up in a bush or stand up and go blind for a minute. 

 

Loki’s self-pity party is halted as a pair of black, decidedly feminine, boots come into his frame of view. “Who are you?” a female voice, definitely Russian - thank the Norns, he got it right - hisses. “Gimme a second,” Loki groans, holding up a finger. “World’s spinning.”

The newcomer makes a confused noise like she’s not used to being treated with, for the most part, a total lack of interest. Her hesitation gives Loki just enough time to clear his head and rise to his feet, towering over her. The Scarlet Witch’s eyes widen in a mix of fear and awe, Loki’s face reflecting back at him in her dark pupils. “I know you,” she whispers. Her foot catches the stair behind her as she steps back, stumbling her. “You led the army into New York.”

Loki delivers a mock bow that doesn’t do nice things to his already churning stomach. “In the flesh,” he purrs. “And you...you are the Scarlet Witch, who has been causing ever so many problems for our dear friends the Avengers.”

_ Ah. There we go. _ The witch’s eyes flare red at the mention of Loki’s team. “You come for the scepter, don’t you? For them, or for you?”

Loki shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing up the steps. “If I were to get my hands on the scepter...well, that  _ would  _ be a bonus, but actually…” Loki spins on a heel, the tails of his long coat flaring out behind him. “...I’m here for you.”

“You’re what?” 

“I’ve heard about what you can do,” Loki continues. “It’s intriguing. You were born without powers, yes?”

Hesitantly, the witch shakes her head.

“And my scepter, it gave these abilities to you?”

“Yes,” the witch answers. Her guard starts to lower, the red fire in her eyes dying down to flickering embers. “Through a lot of pain and long, long years.” 

“How brilliant,” Loki breathes. The witch smiles, just a little. The expression is alien on her pale face. “What all can you do?” Loki asks, and this time  _ he’s  _ the wide-eyed one, having never met someone quite like the witch before. She looks a little nervous, and glances around like she’s expecting to be attacked, but gives in and twitches her hands. A ribbon of red light weaves itself through her fingers. Loki won’t lie, it’s beautiful. Like the embers of a dying fire. Small, dangerous, with the possibility to be fanned into something devastating. Loki feels his face split into a smile that, in the haunting light of Scarlet Witch’s fire, must look near demonic. The woman extinguishes the fire with a slightly clumsy snap of her hands, bathing them both in moonlight once again. “What do you want of me?”

Instead of replying, Loki raises his own hand and flicks it, alighting a ball of green flame in his palm. He wiggles his fingers and the fire twists, lifting off his palm, changing shape again and again as it rises, finally settling into the form of a small green butterfly, flitting its wings in time with the beat of Loki’s heart. The witch’s lips part, eyes following the butterfly as it spirals up, up, into the night sky, before diminishing into a spray of green sparks that come gliding back down. “Oh,” she says, her voice very small. 

“What’s your name?” Loki reaches up and casually slips his hood off, settling it round his shoulders so the witch can better see his face. (Loki’s tip for gaining trust: appear vulnerable. Revealing your true face is a good way of doing so.)  “I can’t keep calling you  _ the Witch. _ ”

The woman glances at her hands, picking at her nails. “Wanda,” she murmurs. “Wanda Maximoff.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” Loki says, giving her his best winning smile. She returns it, though a little shyly. “You have more potential than you realize, Wanda. More  _ power.  _ You can feel it within you, can’t you? I came here to find you because a powerful mage such as yourself needs a teacher. A power like your own cannot go untamed. If you trust me, let me train you...we could be unstoppable. You will never have to fear anyone again.”

Wanda, for a moment, looks like she’s considering it. But then her expression shifts. She sets her jaw and stands a little straighter. “My brother needs me,” she says. “I cannot abandon him now. We swore to seek vengeance together.”

“Vengeance?” Loki queries. Now he’s getting somewhere. Wanda’s hands burn red again. “Tony Stark,” she spits. “He killed our parents. His weapons took them from me and Pietro. I want to see him entombed in rubble and fire, just as my mother and father were.”

In the silver moonlight, Loki pales. If these twins are going after Tony specifically...well, let’s just say it’s a good thing he decided to disobey. He chokes down his worry and masks any concern in his face with a precise mask of cold calculation. “Well, then.” Loki pivots on a heel to leave, glancing back at Wanda before he descends. “I do apologize for bothering you. Revenge quests are ever so fun; best of luck on yours.”

 

As he begins his trek back to the gates of Strucker’s Castle - for dramatic effect only, he doesn’t  _ really  _ need to walk - , Wanda chews on her lip and worries the pendant around her neck. “You are...just going to leave?” 

Loki stops in his tracks. A smile has worked its way onto his face, though it diminishes the moment he turns back around. “I would hate to get in the way of such an important mission,” he drawls. “But if you insist.”

He balls his hand up into a fist and a burst of bright light shines through his fingers. He hurries back up the steps, delicately taking Wanda’s hand in his own. “We cannot be seen here,” he tells her as he presses something into her palm, “But if you wish to speak with me again, Find a secluded place and crush this under your heel.” Loki steps back and draws his hood over his face. Wanda opens her fingers to gaze at the charm Loki had given her. The small jade tree glimmers in her palm, throwing lines of gold light onto her skin as the moonlight hits it. When she looks up to thank Loki, she sees only empty space, the only sign he had ever been there a sleek black feather drifting lazily to the ground.

 

***

 

Part of Loki is hoping Wanda won’t use the charm; the last time he used a summoning hex on himself - which was once, he thought it would be funny, it wasn’t - he’d appeared wrapped in a towel in some poor mortal’s living room. (Long story.) He wasn’t kidding, though, when he offered to teach Wanda. Behind all the “Tony Stark Must Die” bullshit, she really is a bright young woman with a stunning potential for power. If she weren’t trying to murder the love of his life, Loki would have taken her under his wing right then and there. He leaves the compound conflicted; Ultron and his compatriots have to be taken out, that’s a given, but after  _ talking  _ to Wanda, he’s suddenly less inclined to see her dead. She hurt Tony and he can’t forgive her for that...and yet, he’s finding himself growing oddly protective of her. Something about her...maybe it was the way she held herself, or the fact her eyes were much too old for her face, but  _ something  _ was familiar to Loki. He looked at her and somehow, as though an image had been superimposed on top of Wanda, he saw a little girl with curly black hair and big green eyes, holding a skeletal fox close to her chest. 

 

No, Wanda Maximoff can’t die. 

 

If they meet on the planes of battle, Loki will not draw his knife. When he looked into her eyes, he didn’t see the ruthless Scarlet Witch, who had terrorized the Avengers with her visions of death and despair. She had the same haunted look in her eyes that Loki had last seen in his daughter’s eyes the nights following her mother’s death. Hel is far away from him, in a place he can’t reach. She may not be with him in the flesh, but she’s there in spirit, and perhaps helping Wanda overcome her fear of her powers and of her past will ease the burning remorse that has settled in Loki’s stomach for the past five hundred years. 

 

***

 

The air is cold and filled with soot that blankets the barren landscape in a thick gray haze. Moans of those sentenced to the eternal darkness echo in the jagged stone mountains as feet worn down to the bone shuffle on. In the bowels of a once-great castle sat perched atop the tallest of the mountains, an ever watching eye scanning the fields of the damned, a single tomb sits untouched by time. While the other burials are crumbling to dust, eyes of the buried hollow and cracked, the slab of stone sat perfectly in the middle is still smooth. The statue that lays atop the slab is youthful in her endless sleep, encased in a blanket of stone that highlights her soft features, right down to the delicate curls of her hair spread across her stone pillow and the folds of her poncho as it slips off of the pedestal. Had her skin not been made of stone, one might think she was alive. 

 

This is not a tomb for this girl. Her body does not lie within the solid stone beneath the statue; the statue  _ is  _ the girl, magically preserved until such time as she is woken from her sleep. And though her body is still, and her chest does not rise and fall, her mind is active. She lives in her dreams. 

 

In her dreams, she runs barefoot along a cliff, and the grass is warm against her skin. In her dreams, her father teaches her how to fight, both with her body and with her words. She becomes a perfect weapon, with a spear sharp enough to cut through bone, a mind to match, and an artillery of spells and souls at her side. She is ageing year by year, because even in this deep sleep she herself is not immune to the nature of time. The years pass and she gets a little taller, a little stockier, and a little closer to the day that she will wake. 

In her dreams, which to her, are a reality, she sits on a golden bench under a tall tree that, unbeknownst to her, is where her parents would meet in secret each night before her late older brothers were sired. Her hands are busy whittling away at a branch with a jewel-encrusted knife, feet idly kicking pebbles off the ground and sending them skittering away. Her long black hair, braided neatly into a single plait, hangs down her back, tied with a strip of soft leather. She’s nearly fifteen now, only a few more human years until she officially turns an Asgardian year older. Soft footsteps interrupt her laser-focused concentration on her work, quiet and slow enough that the person approaching could only be preparing for a sneak attack. The dark-haired girl smiles to herself, for she knows who the steps belong to. One doesn’t grow up in the wild without learning what sound specific animals and people make when they walk. A pair of hands grab her shoulders and as the princess shrieks in fake surprise, a high-pitched cackle breaks the peaceful ambience of the courtyard. “Did you know it was me?” a male voice chirps, and a boy a few years younger than the princess hops onto the bench next to his sister, facing the great tree. He, like the princess, is slumbering in a hidden cove, dreaming a dream of a better life.  “Of course I did,” the princess teases. “You are as loud as a bilgesnipe with bells on.”

The young prince pouts. “Da said I was doing well.”

“Da is a liar,” Hel responds airily, resuming her work on the tree branch. “Stop putting your weight on your toes. You will lose your balance and fall and look like a fool.”

Her little brother sticks his tongue out at her. Hel flicks a curl of shaved wood at him and smiles smugly when it hits him on the nose. “Can we go hunting?” Her brother asks, annoyance at his sister immediately forgotten as his brain veers off to a new subject. Hel shakes her head. “Perhaps later; I have lessons with Nan in an hour.” 

“You aren’t  _ doing _ anything, though!” her brother protests. Hel rolls her eyes and keeps focused on her whittling. “I am. I’m carving. And by the time we gather our bows and make it to the highlands, I will have to come back. I can take you out tomorrow, alright?”  

The prince doesn’t look happy, but he gives in and scoots around so he’s sitting with his legs bumping against his sister’s. She nudges him away. “What’s Nan teaching you today?” he asks. Hel smiles to herself. “Summoning and banishing,” she tells him, lifting her chin in pride. “She said last week I was ready. Da was very proud.”

“I bet,” the prince sighs. “Why am I not allowed to learn?”

Hel taps her brother lightly on the nose. She’s well accustomed to her little brother’s constant whining; it’s practically all he does. “Because you’re too young, Jørmi.”

Jørmungandr huffs indignantly, foot tapping the ground in repetitive harmony. “I wish I wasn’t.”

“Soon,” Hel assures him. “When you’re old enough, we will celebrate. I will take you to my summoning circle and we can tell Ma all about it.”

Jørmungandr’s green eyes get even bigger. “Really?”

Hel nods. “I promise. By then I will have mastered summoning, and we can finally see Ma again.”

Jørmungandr, now content with his sister’s decision, folds his legs together and watches his sister carve. “Can you tell me about your lessons?”

Hel laughs. She sets down her knife and branch and turns around so she’s sitting cross-legged facing her brother. “Alright, alright, little snake _._ What do you want to know?”

“Show me your best spell!” Jørmungandr chirps, hugging his knees close to his chest and looking much younger than he really is. Hel chews on her lip, narrows her eyes, thinking, and then snaps her fingers. A burst of white light flashes from her palms, twisting and burning before it explodes into an array of circles and three dimensional, semi-realistic planets. “ _ Wowww, _ ” Jørmungandr gasps. “...What is it?”

Hel grins. “Navigational chart. It isn’t a highly complicated spell, but I enjoy it greatly.”

“It’s  _ gorgeous. _ ”

A dreamy look clouds Hel’s sea green eyes like a tempest rolling into a bay. “It is, isn’t it. We are so small, in comparison to the universe. So insignificant. But this…” Hel pauses. She reaches up with one hand and drags it through the projection. The spell ripples with her touch. “...This makes it easier to find our purpose.”

“ _ Geez,  _ sis,” Jørmungandr grumbles. “I didn’t need an existential crisis. You got anything that  _ won’t  _ keep me up at night?”

“Magic is supposed to be intimidating,” Hel replies smoothly. To prove her point, she bends over and wraps her hands around a sleeping Bein, who lets out an indignant yip as he’s hoisted into the air. “Bein’s cute, right?”

“Bein is cute,” Jørmungandr agrees, tickling the fox’s exposed stomach with ring-adorned fingers, “And you are trying to distract me.”

Hel’s eyes glint in a way that Jørmungandr does  _ not  _ like. “Bein is dead,” Hel says. “Bein was rotting in a field when I found him. Isn’t that right,  _ nydelig _ ?” Hel’s talking to Bein, now, in a falsetto. Bein licks her cheek, leaving a trail of shining silver against her skin. “Yes, that’s right. Dead as a dark elf. Yet it was through the use of this, ah,  _ scary magic  _ that I brought him back.”

“You were four.”

“I was  _ six _ ,” Hel corrects. 

“Whatever,” Jørmungandr grunts. “You’re not making sense, anyways.”

His snippy tone earns him a withering glare from his sister. “Maybe you’re just shortsighted,” Hel replies, shrugging graceful shoulders while she gives Bein scratches on his head. The little fox lets out a big yawn, baring his wickedly sharp teeth that Jørmungandr has been unlucky enough to feel the sting of. Bein kneads Hel’s skirts in a curiously cat-like way, which leads Jørmungandr to wonder what the Hel his sister has been feeding her pet. “What’s that?” He asks, argument once again forgotten as he catches sight of the pendant strung around Hel’s neck. Hel glances down at the circular stone nestled against her bare chest, green against white. Slender fingers leave her fox’s fur to dance across the smooth green surface, sketching out the outline with gentle fingertips. “Da gave it to me,” she explains softly, eyes alighting with a fondness only ever visible when talking about her father. “It’s a summoning stone. An old one,” she adds. “As far as I am aware it no longer works. He thought it would be an appropriate gift for the beginning of this new chapter of study I am entering.”

The princess unclasps the golden chain from around her neck and cradles the pendant in her palm. Jørmungandr peers over her shoulder to get a closer look. “Is it Yggdrasil?” he asks, poking a dirt-stained finger at the jade tree resting in his sister’s hand. Hel dips her head. “It is. Gorgeous, yes?”

“Very much so,” Jørmungandr breathes. 

 

The sunlight in the courtyard glints off the polished surface of the jade tree. Flecks of gold cast shimmering reflections across the cobblestone. Thousands of miles away, in another realm altogether, a young woman sits perched on a thin mattress in an old castle, hands cupped together as she holds a necklace eerily similar to the heir of Asgard’s own. Two lifetimes, two pairs of siblings. A sister and a brother, inseparable, huddle around a gift given by the mentor of one girl and the father of the other. 

 

***

 

The air has grown tense, as it always does on the eve of battle. It feels, to Tony, much like the night before the New York invasion, a comparison he is not overly fond of. This is the calm before the storm; the last day of semi-peaceful existence. Tomorrow they launch their first attack on Ultron since the shipyard. Tomorrow the fate of the world becomes apparent. 

 

Tony wishes he could say he’s relieved when he opens the door to his borrowed room and Loki is on the bed, long legs crossed at the ankles as he thumbs through an unfamiliar book held precariously over his face. “Thought you were running recon,” Tony grunts. The back cover of Loki’s book shifts and a single green eye glints at Tony. “I was.” Loki’s voice is low and quiet as he disappears back into his book. “And…?” Tony crosses the room and drops down on the end of the bed. Loki flips down his book again to glower at him as the bed dips and his book gets jostled around. “Is this something we have to go over  _ now _ ?”

 

“Uh…” Tony glances around the room. The thing with Loki is that half the time he talks, Tony can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. Judging from the burning annoyance that tightens his face, this time, he’s not kidding. “...Yes?” 

 

Loki exhales deeply, shoulders sagging. “Okay. Fine. I went to find the Scarlet Witch-”

Tony’s eyes bug out of his head. “I’m sorry, you did  _ what _ ?”

“Do keep up, Tony, your hearing hasn’t  _ quite  _ gone yet. As I was saying, I went to find the Scarlet Witch. Wanda. Amidst various other details I need not disclose quite yet, she did mention her motive.”

Tony scoots closer. “Well, out with it, Blue, don’t keep me waiting.”

Loki sighs like Tony’s very existence is taxing on him. He obliges, however, and tucks a thin strip of leather in between the pages of his book. “When Wanda and her brother Pietro were ten, a bomb dropped on their apartment building. They survived. Their parents...they weren’t so lucky.”

There’s this look in Loki’s eyes, a sort of guilty, apologetic dullness that tells Tony the rest of the story before Loki needs to finish. “Oh, god.” He supposed it would’ve been a matter of time before his past came back to bite him in the ass, or in this case, fuck up his brain. “The bomb was mine, wasn’t it?” 

 

Loki nods shortly. “It would appear our friends the Maximoff twins are hellbent on your destruction.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Tony sighs. This day keeps getting better and better. “Okay. Okay. Update me on the rest tomorrow. Right now, we get some rest. Tomorrow...” 

Tony leans forward to chase Loki’s mouth. After an exhausting four hours arguing with the world’s most stubborn group of superheroes, a taste of familiarity is exactly what he needs. That, and a second to breathe before he makes the decision he’s been weighing since noon. Loki hooks an arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him around so Tony’s half on top of him. “Tomorrow…?” he presses, low and inviting as he  rubs lazy circles into Tony’s back. 

 

“Tomorrow,” Tony straightens his spine so he’s not hunched awkwardly over his boyfriend as he delivers arguably the best news they’ve had in a week. “We suit up. Together. For real.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocab: 
> 
> Bein (Hel's fox) - Bones. Pronounced "Bine"
> 
> Nydelig (Bein's nickname) - Gorgeous. Pronounced Need-lig.

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on Tumblr & Instagram: @MidgardianMischief


End file.
